Running For Our Lives
by Syn2
Summary: Wesley and Faith each seek redemption and find each other instead. And Five demons bent on killing them both.W/Faith, C/A, G/F *complete*
1. Lost and Found

Running for Our Lives  
---------------------  
  
  
Author: Syn  
Rating: PG-13 right now for some language, but it gets more violent and smutty as it goes along.  
Pairings: Wesley/Faith, Cordelia/Angel, Gunn/Fred and with some mention of Wes/Fred. Oh, and Lorne/Miss Cleo.   
Disclaimer: These are not my property and I'm not Joss, as I lack a penis and an enormous squishy frontal lobe.  
Spoilers: Up to Sleep Tight and then I galavant off into my own AU.  
Distribution: If you want it, take it.  
Summary: Set in the aftermath of Sleep Tight, Wesley is trying to make amends with Angel and the gang. Things get complicated when he finds out Faith has been released from prison. Sequel to Scars, by yours truly!  
My Notes: Ahh..Wes/Faith. Strange? Yes. Sexy? Yes. Bondage? Yes please! A little C/A thrown in just cuz I likes it and you've got a fic, baby! This one was shamelessly inspired by "Yellow Brick Road", so much props to the Proverbial!   
Reviews: Don't judge me! hehe..just kidding. I loves me some reviews so feel free.   
  
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Chapter I: Lost and Found  
  
  
It left a scar. Wesley frowned at the reflection in the mirror, tilting his head to look at the puckered, pale flesh that ran from his adam's apple to the hollow below his ear. The skin stretched slightly as he took the slack off of it, his blue eyes mourning the loss of the previously perfect skin.   
  
With a sigh, he righted his head and let his fingers walk their way down his chest to the flat, shiny scar on his stomach, just to the right of his navel. Nestled in the coarse, dark hair of his belly, he felt the bullet wound, realizing it had been more than a year since he'd acquired it. A phantom pain, left over from the days when all he had to do was sit up and feel the wound seering, shot through his gut, reminding him it hadn't been long enough. He swallowed and his fingers left the hole, winding their spidery way to his wrists.   
  
Anyone who didn't know him would have guessed he had burned himself on a hot plate cooking, or something benign like that. Not so, Wesley thought as he fingered the rope burns, remembering all too well the face and eyes that had given them to him. He closed his eyes, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafting through his senses. He teetered on his feet, a moan escaping his lips as he wondered, wished, waited for her image to leave him.   
  
A pregnant pause and his eyes flickered open, meeting his own through the flat glass of the mirror. He knew he looked like shit, neck wound aside. It had been days since he'd felt the need to shower, and even longer since he felt the need to shave. The very idea of a sharp object near his throat made him cringe and retreat out of the bathroom.   
  
He did just that, walking so quickly from the little room that he had to walk backward a step to turn off the light properly. As he walked into the cluttered, cave-like living room, he heard the beep of the answering machine and a breathy voice he knew only too well. Guilt and longing shot through his gut as Fred begged him to come into work that day. He squeezed his eyes shut against her drawling, haunting voice, daring her to tell him it was all right, that no one blamed him. She did neither. No, she told him he was needed, he was a part of the family, that they missed him.  
  
But Wesley knew better. He dimly recalled the days he had lain in a hospital bed, eyes swimming with faces he knew and loved. Faces that accused him and pitied him at the same time.   
  
First had come Fred and Gunn, holding hands like they had a lifeline between them. They held each other up as Fred had fretted over his tubes, the oxygen and the IV's in his wrist. Gunn, eyes steady and jaw set, loomed over his girlfriend like a silent sentinel. Gunn, Wesley's best friend and rival, had tears in his eyes as he looked down at him. They had gone quickly, too quickly for Wesley's liking; he knew they didn't hate him.   
  
Neither did Lorne, who had snuck in under a large hat and dark glasses. The bruise on his temple was fading to a dull olive green and it did little to marr the smile on the demon's face. A muttered, half-drugged apology had seemed to suite him and he shrugged the attack off with wave of his hand. Then he left him and Wesley felt pain surge in his heart. He knew who would come next and he waited.  
  
They had both come, clinging to each other, anger seething in the back of their eyes, but worry sketched into the drawn features of their faces. Cordelia, whom he had rarely seen cry, had broken down and wept, her head his lap. From his haze, he could only make out a few words.   
  
"We thought you were dead and Connor's gone and I should have been there! You're such a fucking idiot! How could you! God, I was so worried! Dumbass!"   
  
Angel had scooped her up, gathering her against his chest and stilling her wracking sobs with a gentle hand on her face. Something seemed to pour out between as they stood there, breast to breast. Wesley frowned, eyes focusing and unfocusing as he tried to remember something he had heard Fred say. Kye-rumption? But the thought was gone, like water between his fingers, before he could call it back.   
  
It was then that Angel's eyes met Wesley's. The utter betrayal Angel felt resonated throughout him as he looked down at the fallen Watcher. Wesley knew that Angel felt he had payed his blood price for his Judas kiss. But that didn't change things. Angel still walked out without saying one word to his companion. Wes was left alone with his guilt and the only question he could wrap his head around.  
  
"Why didn't I die?" Wesley said out loud as he came back to himself, the memories that had flooded his mind with such clarity retreating back into the shadowed recesses of his memory.  
  
No answer but the sound of the machine beeping and clicking, erasing Fred's message. Wesley sat down on his couch, mind crushed under the weight of the silence around him. "Why?"   
  
No answer. Wesley closed his eyes and wondered if anyone else in the whole wide world was a lost as he was. He didn't think it was possible.  
  
  
************************  
  
  
Faith felt claustrophobia closing in on her as she looked around at her new "home."   
  
The small apartment (no hovel, she corrected) was as tight and confining as any cell she had ever been in. One month out of prison and she still felt caged. She sat down in the dilapidated chair in what served as both her living room and her bedroom, legs itching to kick at something solid. The wall had already taken the brunt of her frustrations and now a hole the size of her booted foot stared back at her like a black hole. She wondered if it was possible to get sucked into something smaller than she was.   
  
A slow smile spread across her features, replacing the frown she had been wearing since waking up that morning. She felt a jangle against her flat tummy and fished into the black apron with one weary hand. A fistful of crumpled, grease stained dollars came out, along with a few errant quarters. The frowned returned and stayed, marvelling at its handiwork as she counted out her tip money. No one tipped an unfriendly waitress, or so it seemed.   
  
Only one customer that day had tipped her anything more than a dollar and he had left her a number as well as a twenty. The phone number, written on his receipt, was folded in among the bills in her fist. She pulled it out saw he had written something on it as well as his number.   
  
"Hey sexy, call me some time and we'll get to know one another. Love, Gary." Faith read aloud, her eyes running over the number over and over again. She wondered if she should call it.  
  
The thought of a quick fuck was tempting and it gave her goosebumps and a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in two years. She was actuallly free to date, to see someone. But would they want to see her? She was sure if the guy knew she was a parolee, he wouldn't have been as keen to have her straddling his lap. Or maybe he would? Who was Faith to say what got some guys off?   
  
Maybe fucking a murdering bitch got the guys rocks off. Bile rose in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut against the memories of years long gone by.   
  
She choked off a scream and threw a quarter against the wall, watching with eagle eyes as it rolled beneath the small, battered coffee table that lorded over the equally battered carpet. She sat there for a moment, scowling at the coffee table and daring the quarter to make its appearance again. It didn't and she sighed, slipping off the chair to retrieve it.   
  
"Nice ass." Came the drawling, lazy voice she knew very well. She sat up, teeth grinding together as she glanced over at her parole officer.   
  
"Hi Rob." She forced the words past her lips, but didn't bother to hide her annoyance at his uninvited appearance in her apartment. Rob took a deep drag off the chewed cigarette clenched in his fist, his blood-shot eyes roving their way down her body. Faith left her disgust plainly written across her pale face.  
  
"So, what are you doing tonight?" Rob asked her, stepping into the apartment and kicking the door closed with his dirty, scruffed boot. For a moment, Faith wondered how this sleaze bag had ever gotten a job as a parole officer. He looked one step short of robbing a liquor store himself.   
  
"No one you'd know." Faith responded, one eyebrow arched eloquently as he took the insult to home. Nearly a month of coming on to her and the guy still didn't get it.   
  
"Aren't we mouthy for a bitchy little murderer on parole? You be careful with yourself or I'll just have to make out a report. A nasty little report that'll be sure to send someone back to their nice little cell. You got me?" Rob said, the liquidy glint in his eyes shining as smiled a broken, rotten smile at her, one finger flicking ashes onto her carpet.  
  
A retort was ready to escape her lips, but she bit it back. No good to fight with the one person whose say-so kept her free. "Got ya, wicked plenty." She answered, standing up and moving toward him. His eyes slitted and she saw his nasty little tongue dart over his thick, rubbery lips.   
  
"So ahh..what ARE you doing tonight...?" He asked again, his eyes glueing themselves to her breasts. Faith raised one hand, placing it on his shoulder.   
  
"Myself." And with that, she leapt for the doorhandle, swinging it open at the same time she shoved Rob backward. He stumbled into the dimly lit hallway, a smile on his lips.   
  
"Can I watch?" Was all Faith heard as she slammed the door in his face, dropping the bolt into place with a groan.   
  
As she sank back down onto the chair, she felt loneliness close over her with a familiar hand. The apron around her waist felt confining all of a sudden, so she threw it off, watching as the money and her tablet fell to the floor. She felt disgusted at the job, her life and everything she ever was. She felt lost, but she knew, perversly. that she didn't deserve to be found.   
  
But she still hoped she would be, as she fell asleep in the chair, curled in on herself. She hoped someone would find her and chase away the nightmares.   
  
When she woke up, she was still alone.  
  
***********************  
  
  
London, England  
  
"She's been out of prison for a month." Quentin Travers argued, tapping his fountain pen against the polished wooden table for emphasis. His light green eyes met the eyes of his fellow Watchers in turn, making them each shift uncomfortably under his gaze. What he was suggesting was no longer necessary, at least to the eyes of one of his companions.  
  
"But sir, surely Faith is no longer a threat to the Council. All our sources say she's reformed; hell she hasn't even patrolled in all the time she's been free to do so. She's working as waitress and she lives in a barely servicable flat!" Andras Connelly argued, a lock of silver blonde hair falling across his eyes as he nodded his head emphatically.  
  
"But that is exactly the reason why we need to eliminate her. A Rogue Slayer is bad enough, but an inactive active Slayer is unacceptable. We stood idle while she was imprisoned for her crimes, but we do not have that luxury anymore." Travers said vehemently, his jaw working as he tried to get point across.  
  
"But we have a Slayer. Buffy Summers is cooperating with the Council once more, even with the departure of Mr. Giles as her full-time Watcher." Andras said logically, looking around at the small gathering of Watcher's around him. A few of them nodded their heads in agreement.  
  
"Yes, but Miss Summers is not in line anymore. If she dies once more, then we will essentially have no Slayer. Can't you see that Faith's life creates more problems than her death? With her death we will have a new Slayer and we will no longer have to worry about going Slayerless as we did this summer." Quentin argued, his chin warbling in anger.   
  
"But what if we tried to get Faith reinstated as a Slayer? She might be willing." Andras asked, leaning back in his chair, hands on his knees.  
  
"I think you're missing the big picture Mr. Connelly. We don't want Faith as a Slayer anymore; she has served what little purpose she had and now it is time for her to step down and let the mantle fall to someone more worthy." Armand Patil spoke up from his perch in the corner of the room, his features impassive.  
  
"You're talking murder!" Andras said through gritted teeth, his eyes wide.   
  
"I know you're new to the Council Mr. Connelly, but do not act so surprised. The Council has tried this before, but Faith, with the help of Buffy Summers, alluded us. Twice. This is merely completing a mission we had already set into motion long ago." Patil said, bushy eyebrow arched as Andras's face paled.   
  
"I'm aware that the Council has killed its Slayers before, senior, but that was long ago. Its...barbaric now." Andras sputtered, not believing his ears.  
  
"Not so long ago as you might think." A blonde woman Andras knew only as Lydia spoke up, her cool grey eyes flicking from side to side as she spoke.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"In 1981, the Slayer, one Uma Choostavenski, became pregnant with a demon's child. When she refused to have the spawn aborted, the Council found it prudent to dispose of the mother and whatever demon spawn she planned to let lose on the world." Lydia told him, her mouth twisted into an unreadable expression.  
  
"And if the child had been harmless?" Andras asked, leaning toward her, daring her to answer.  
  
"We will never know and I hardly think its up for debate now." Lydia answered him immediately.  
  
"I suppose not." Andras said, teeth clenched as tightly as his fists.  
  
"So you see, Andras, sometimes the Council must act when the Slayer will not. We are not heroes; we leave that up to our Slayers. And if they won't be a hero, we dispose of them. Heartless yes, but that is how we save lives." Quentin Travers said, standing up. "And that brings me to my next point...if there aren't any objections to moving on?"   
  
He stared pointedly over at Andras, who kept his eyes downcast, clouded with anger and words he'd like to tell his seniors. But he kept his mouth shut and met Quentin's eyes with a cool disinterest.   
  
"I want to bring in some specialists to help with this little task." Travers continued, idly playing with the belt loops on his trousers.   
  
"Who?" Patil asked curiously, leaning forward into the light. There was a pregnant pause and then Travers spoke up, his mouth twitching.  
  
"The Five." He said, waiting for their reactions.   
  
Andras, unfortunately, had none but shock. He swallowed and bit his lip. Faith hadn't a chance now.  
  
*********************** 


	2. A Long Talk and A Long Walk

Running for our Lives  
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A/N: A huge smile to Lisette for mentioning me in her author's note. Also one to Diane for the amazing surprise I found in the review section. My eyes popped out and then I couldn't stop grinning!! Thank you for the review! :D  
  
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Chapter II: A Long Talk and A Long Walk  
  
About a week later, he went back. Not because they asked him to, but because he was tired of feeling useless and alone. No welcoming arms greeted him; only nods of acceptance and curt answers to any question he asked. Only Gunn and Fred seemed to warm up to him, despite the distance that had built in his absence. Cordelia spoke to him only if she had to and Angel...Angel didn't even look in his direction.   
  
All in all, it was much better than Wesley had expected to be treated. But it wasn't like it was before, when they were a family; Angel, Cordelia, Gunn, Fred, himself and of course, Connor. The hotel seemed empty, for all its many unused rooms, with the absence of one crying child. A shadow passed over everyone's face as long stretches of silence, once filled with gurgling and giggling, where laden with a sorrow so thick even Fred's naturally cheery disposition was thrust into depression.  
  
So Wesley threw himself, like he did all things, into the process of getting Connor back. The lack of sleep was affecting him, but he knew he was closer to knowing what and how to get to the Quototh, the darkest dimension, as Cordelia had relayed to him. He was sure if he just studied hard enough and looked at dry, cracked parchment with old encantations on it he would find the answer.   
  
Two weeks passed and he still wasn't any closer. Two weeks and finally Cordelia saw what he was doing to himself and she had one of her patented outbursts, complete with emphatic pantomiming.   
  
"I know you're all with the guilt, but you're going to kill yourself if you keep on like this!" She shouted, throwing up her hands, her hazel eyes bulging.   
  
"Cordelia...I have to. I have to get him back, for Angel." Wesley said softly, plucking at the sun-baked foliage that dotted the courtyard.   
  
"Wes, Angel wants Connor back, but he doesn't want you to kill yourself in the process. That already almost happened." Cordelia said softly peering into his stubbled face with imploring eyes.  
  
"I bet he wishes it had." Came his meloncholy reply, so laden with guilt and pent up feelings that Cordelia's eyes narrowed in anger.   
  
"NO. He. Doesn't." She said forcefully, teeth clenched tightly.  
  
"Then why won't he look at me...or even say "Hey pass the blood!" He asked bitterly, hurt welling up as he remembered the way Angel's eyes had slid over him as if he wasn't there.   
  
"Because he still hurts. But he knows now that you thought you were protecting Connor. And he knows we all make mistakes. Hell, he knows better than anyone!" Cordelia said wryly, resting her chin on her hand and staring off into the distance. "Sometimes you make mistakes because you don't know any better and the right thing is staring you in the face, but you ignore it and go for the mystery prize, which just ends up being a toaster oven."   
  
"Cordy?" Wesley asked her, his eyebrows raising at the rant that spilled from her lips.   
  
"What? Ohh..uhh..nevermind." She said, coloring rather prettily. There was a long pause and Wesley heard a car alarm go off in the distance.   
  
"Where is Groo?" He asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't seen the Pylean in all the time he'd been back at Angel Investigations. Cordelia went quiet for a moment and a shadow passed over her features.   
  
"He went back to Pylea." She said quietly, her eyes slitted as she rubbed a leaf between her fingers.   
  
"Why?" He didn't know why he was pressing, but he felt he needed to know.  
  
"Why? Oh there were a couple of reasons. Let me see...first off, I'm all for being worshipped but it gets on your nerves after a while. Plus, I like stimulating conversation and that wasn't happening, but the sex was great!" Off his look, she continued, "Anyway, when we came back here, he just didn't understand...."   
  
"Understand what?" He prompted, glancing over at her.   
  
"He didn't understand why I had to be there for Angel. Why I couldn't, wouldn't leave his side for one minute the first week Connor was gone. Why I cared so much about a baby that wasn't mine. Why you all meant so much to me. Like I said, there were a lot of reasons." Cordy told him, leaning back against the stucco walls, her arms crossed over her flat stomach. She sighed heavily and bit her lip.   
  
"I get that now. Do they know?"   
  
"Only that he left for reasons unknown. Although I think Fred knows; she's quite astute that one." Cordelia said, smiling despite the shadows in her eyes.   
  
"Yes, she is."  
  
"I'm sorry." Cordelia said in a soft voice, one hand on his shoulder.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Gunn and Fred. I know how you feel about her; it must be hard to watch them together." She supplied in a sympathetic voice. Wesley nodded and turned his gaze to the sky.  
  
"Yes it is. But I know she's happy and that's all that I care about. And Gunn is my best friend; there isn't anyone else I would have wanted her to be with. Barring me of course." Wesley shrugged, a long pent up feeling of loss escaping in a half-mad giggle as he watched puffy white clouds dance across the little block of sky the courtyard opened up to. He smiled widely and shook his head.  
  
He looked back down to his wrists and two shiny scars caught his attention and he watched them for a moment, wondering in the back of his mind what she was doing, where she was, what she was thinking. Vanilla and cinnamon tickled his nose and he shooed it away, looking back up at Cordelia.   
  
"There's someone out there for you, Wes." Cordelia said with certainty in her voice, shaking her head so that a lock of short brown hair fell into her face. She brushed it away and smiled at him.   
  
"Yeah, but she's probably some mad woman." Wes said wryly, that half-mad giggle escaping his lips once more.  
  
"She'd have to be to fall in love with you." Cordelia replied with a wide grin, ruffling his hair with one hand.   
  
From that moment on, things were okay between him and Cordelia, which was something Wesley never expected to happen again. Now if only Angel could do the same.  
  
********************  
  
  
It started on accident, really. She had worked the late shift at the diner and was walking home because she missed her bus. Not to mention the fact that both Gary and Rob had come into the diner and pinched her ass until it was raw. AND left lousy tips when she'd told them off. All in all, it was the perfect end to the perfect day when she was grabbed from behind and hauled into an alley.   
  
At first, Faith was slightly scared and annoyed. Who the hell would dare try to mug her? But when she felt hot, rancid breath on her throat and noticed that the hands that held her were much stronger than they should be, she was pissed.  
  
With a bone jarring head butt, she sent the vampire reeling into the wall, blood spurting from his ridged nose. She didn't have a stake on her, but the trash can lid she found did just fine. She decapitated him before he could recover from her first attack.   
  
Watching the vampire turn to dust sparked something in her, something she hadn't realized she'd lost. A lust for the kill was what it was, or at least she thought that was what it was at first. The thought of killing scared her and she ran from the alley, all the way home.   
  
The next night, though, she purposely walked home, a stake hidden in the pocket of her apron. It didn't take long for two vampires to spot the fuckable young woman walking in a blue skirt and tight shirt. They were dusted in rapid succession and she again felt the spark growing, expanding in her belly until it threatened to choke off her air. She cried herself to sleep that night, feeling that she had once again failed herself. She wanted to kill again and she hated herself for it because that lost feeling in her soul was whole once more.  
  
She woke in the morning with a hardened heart; she would not become a killer. She rode the bus home that night and the night after that.   
  
Saturday night she was pacing the shag carpet of her little hovel, muscles aching from the lack of excercise. She knew what she wanted to do and she set her jaw, willing the spark to go away. She sat down in front of the television and lost herself for an hour. When the movie was over, she stood up and went to the door, moving before she knew she was doing so.   
  
The route she chose wasn't conscious, but it did take her to a run-down part of Los Angeles, one she didn't recognize and didn't care too. The stake she didn't realize she was carrying was tucked nicely in her palm, ready to be raised to ward off attack at any moment.   
  
When the vampires showed themselves, Faith knew that they would be there waiting and she wondered how she knew. Thought was forced out as they attacked. She fought like a hellcat, the muscles too long reigned in singing and adrenaline pumping through her system like cocaine. As she slammed the stake home into the last vampire's rib cage, feeling the wood scrape bone, she smiled.   
  
It came to her just then; it wasn't like murder. No, it was Slaying, it was what she was built for. It was her calling and the only thing in life she still understood. She couldn't believe she had mistaken the one thing she had ever felt so damned sure about for cold-blooded murder.   
  
After that she was addicted. Every night Faith snuck out of the apartment building that housed the other parolees, aware that if she was caught violating curfew, she would be in big trouble. But that didn't stop her. Every dusted vampire was like one more shot in her viens and she would watch her hands shake in anticipation of the next fight, her muscles screaming for something to lash out at. Even the sound, the feel, of destroying the abominations was entering her system, filling the holes in her soul with the ashes of the slain. With every vampire killed, more pieces fell into place and she wasn't crying herself to sleep at night. Hell, she was barely having nightmares anymore.   
  
But she was still lonely.   
  
Walking one night, Faith realized she knew where she was and she swallowed hard, peering through the shadows at the ruined office building, the charred remains roped off with faded yellow police tape. She wondered where he lived and if he knew, or even cared if she was out.   
  
He hated her and she knew it. All the dreams of him forgiving her, even holding her and making love to her faded as she realized the truth of the matter. This wasn't a dream and she wasn't the perfect little Slayer he needed.   
  
No, she was just some fucking whore who murdered a bunch of people and tortured her Watcher. She swallowed hard and sat down across the street from the charred husk of Angel Investigations, one hand wrapped around the stake and one hand wiping tears from her cheeks. She wondered why she cared so much about a person whom she had never respected either way.   
  
But she did respect him. He didn't even scream when she was hurting him. She felt sick at the thought and she ran away from the place, looking back over her shoulder once and wondering if she'd ever get up the courage to knock on his door and ask for tea. She laughed and thought that was a fine idea, even if it did get a door slammed in her face.   
  
She didn't know if he'd do that, but she kept walking by the abandoned place. She didn't know if she did it because she wished she'd accidently meet him and see pride swelling in his chest at the good little Slayer before him, or if the memories of a life with people she cared about were so much stronger in this place. She didn't know, but it made her feel good.   
  
And that was something she hadn't felt in so long that she clung to it and waited for him to find her in the darkness. It didn't take as long as she expected.  
  
****************   
  
  
Down in the dungeon-like stacks of the Watcher's Council mansion, Andras was immersed in a pile of dusty tomes, each as thick as his waist. An hour had passed since he'd cracked the fifteenth century book open and he wasn't any closer to the information he needed. Finally, after what seemed like days, he found the passage. A grim, dusty smile crossed his lips and he squinted at Father Abernathy's tiny, handwritten scrawl.   
  
All the information was there, even bits he had forgotten since his learning. He frowned, making notes and keeping one ear trained on the metal door that lead to the fireproof room. He coughed slightly and kept reading.   
  
He wondered how long the journey from whatever place the Five called home would take. They would get there quicker than he would have liked; he'd bet money on it. And from London, it was just a slight jaunt over the pond to Los Angeles and he had to be prepared. Tonight he would ferret out the number of the only man he knew might care about what happened to the rightful Slayer and as soon as he did, he'd give that man a call and warn him. Perhaps the Slayer would survive again. All Andras knew was that he had to give her the chance, no matter how small it was.  
  
He wrote his notes out frantically, never noticing the small camera hidden in the shadows near the ceiling.   
  
************** 


	3. Hiding Out

Running for our Lives  
------------------------  
  
  
  
Chapter III: Hiding Out  
  
A week after their talk, it happened. The vision hit Cordelia with the force of a battering ram. It wasn't painful, but it did knock her off her feet, her back sliding up the wall of the lobby as a force more powerful than she was took hold of her. Suspended twelve feet off the ground she kept eerily quiet about the things she saw, her eyes unfocused and far away.   
  
Not one of the companions dared to breath as they waited for the vision to stop. When she got to the last scene, she suddenly collapsed, whatever demony power in her system shutting down completely and leaving her with no strings attached. Angel caught her with ease and she took a steadying breath, head buried against his shoulder.   
  
"Well that was new." Gunn said, his eyebrows looking like they would slide to the back of his head if they went up much further. Fred shushed him with a hand to his chest and peered at Cordelia from under a curtain of thick brown hair.   
  
"Are you okay?" Angel asked her, wincing as she shot him a deadly glare, teeth gritted as she rubbed at her burned backside. Angel set her down and lifted the back of her shirt with no sense of propriety, one grave-cold hand soothing the wall-burn and the other holding her steady. "What did you see?"  
  
"There was a girl running down an alley. Dark hair and she was bleeding. Vampires, two of them." Cordelia told them, grimacing as she shook her head. "She's near Elysian Park...about a block west."   
  
"Lets saddle up people." Gunn said, rubbing his hands together and walking toward the weapons cabinet. Lorne suddenly stepped into his path, stopping him from going any further.  
  
"Just Wesley." Was all the lounge singer said, his blood red eyes seriously sober as he glanced over at the former boss of Angel Investigations. Wesley looked up from his notes, his shadowed eyes and stubbled cheeks sunken in from too many sleepless nights.   
  
"What are you talking about?" Wesley croaked out, avoiding the stare of the others as they turned their questioning gazes toward him. His hand raised to his throat in a newly acquired habit, tracing the slash wound unconsciously.   
  
"I mean, this vision was meant for Wesley. Just him." Lorne said, glancing over at Cordelia. She furrowed her brow and nodded, realizing that she had gotten the same impression, only not as strong.   
  
"Sorry, doesn't work that way." Angel said in a stony voice, not taking his hands away from Cordelia, his eyes focused just to the right of Wesley's face.   
  
"Why? I can handle two vampires surely. If it was meant for me, then I will take it." Wesley asked, standing up from the little corner he had made his own and had been hiding out in. His gaze shifted from Lorne to Angel, seeking approval perhaps; he didn't know.  
  
"Yes, but I'm not sure you *can* handle it Wesley. I'd rather not risk another inno--I'd rather not risk it." Angel choked off the last word, eyes lighting on the ceiling and staying there, as if he was asking for strength from some higher being.  
  
"I'm going." Wesley said with a force he didn't realize he possessed. He pushed past Lorne and Gunn and grabbed two stakes and a sword from the cabinet. Without a backward glance, he walked out of the hotel, jaw set and eyes blazing. He was only too glad to get of there.   
  
"Wes!" Lorne's voice was persistent and Wesley stopped, turning back to face the green anagogic demon with a face schooled to a mask of indifference.   
  
"What?"   
  
"This vision, be careful. And don't overreact, bro. This girl needs you, even though she thinks she doesn't. And you need her; in a big way." Lorne said in his usual cryptic manner, tilting his spiky head at the Englishman. Wesley's eyes narrowed and he shook his head.  
  
"What do you mean?" Wes asked, thoughts jumbled into a vortex of confusion at his words.   
  
"You'll find out. Watcher." Was all Lorne said as he turned on his heel and headed back into the hotel, the front door slamming behind him. Wes watched him go and then turned and headed back to his motorcycle. Whatever Lorne had been talking about, he would soon find out.  
  
As he rumbled down the street, wind whipping around his body, he prayed it didn't present more problems than he already had to deal with; he didn't think he could handle anymore surprises.  
  
  
***************************   
  
"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Came the rasping, growl-filled voice of one of her followers. Faith rolled her eyes and felt pain spider across her neck, where a puncture wound was sluggishly seeping blood. Dirt and other refuse stuck to her sweaty skin and she tried not to breath in too deeply. She jumped as the vampire kicked at the Dumpster, the thump echoing through the metal container. She winced and wished he'd walk away long enough for her to recover. She flashed back to how she'd gotten here in the first place and groaned in her mind.   
  
A routine patrol had turned into her finding a nest of vampires, one that had noticed the sudden increase in dusted vampires around the city in the last few weeks. Ones that were looking for someone just like her. When several of their brethren had spotted the lone girl walking through the streets where she had no business being, they had divised a plan and ambushed her.   
  
At least twenty vampires had been dusted in the ten minute fight in a darkened alleyway, no few of those finding a vulnerable spot on her and taking advantage. She had to give them credit, they knew how to work as a team, not even killing the presumed leader had broken up the band of ragtag vamps. But it had served her time to escape, left shoulder bleeding and limbs bruised so much she didn't know how she was going to explain it away at work the next morning. Assuming she was even going to make it to the next morning.  
  
So here she was, the Slayer, hiding out in a Dumpster. All she wanted was to get of there. Faith seethed with anger at the turn of events; anger she quickly turned into adrenaline. As the vamp went to raise the lid of the dumpster, the scent of blood tickling his senses, she leapt out at him.   
  
He was pulled, kicking and screaming, into the refuse filled dumpster. His mouth met her fist several times, the knuckles beneath the sharp teeth splitting open upon impact after impact.   
  
"No. One. Makes. Me. Afraid." She grunted with each successive hit, enjoying the pain-filled yellow eyes that stared up at her from atop the pile of garbage. A rat scampered across the vamp's blood belly and back into the recesses of the trash. Disgust crossed her features and she spat out a mouthful of blood. "Time to die."   
  
With those three words, she shoved the stake into the vampire's chest and felt the almost orgasmic surge as he turned to dust, the wind of his passing pushing her blood-clumped hair from her face. She swayed on her feet for a moment and bit her lip, adrenaline surging to her brain in spikey waves.   
  
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and hauled out of the dumpster before she could resist. She hit the pavement, foot twisting under her as two vampires grinned ferally down at her. The stake was kicked out of her fingers and she watched it roll across the broken ground.   
  
"What have we here?" One of them said, sneer twisting his pierced lip as he wrapped one clawed hand in her hair. She winced and tried to move, foot protesting loudly in the form of a pain-filled surge up and down her leg.   
  
"You've got one pissed off Slayer, asshole. I've killed about twenty of you fuckers, care to make it twenty-two?" She said boldy through gritted teeth, one hand sneaking to the back of her pants, where an extra stake was tucked into the waistband of her panties. She ignored her fear as she found the stake had fallen out in the battle, unnoticed until now. In the distance, she faintly caught the sounds of a motorcycle rumbling along.   
  
"The Slayer, eh? They said you were blonde!" The second one said, peering down at her quizzically, thick football player neck riddled with blue-green viens. At his words, Faith felt a stab go through her heart and she welcomed the pain, turning it into much needed adrenaline. She broke free of their grip, wincing as a clump of hair was left behind, clutched in Pierced's pale fist. Her twisted ankle screamed at her, but she ignored it, half-running down the alley, blood streaming from the wound on her neck.   
  
Peirced and Football quickly recovered and followed her, legs much fresher, lungs not needing the air Faith was frantically dragging into her lungs. She knew they'd have her soon and she'd better think of some drastic tactics soon.   
  
As she turned the corner, foot splashing into something she'd best not think about, the sounds of the motorcycle came closer and she watched as it rushed past her, a blur in the corner of her eye.   
  
"Fuck!" She cursed and turned, knowing the rider was about to get a very nasty surprise as soon as he rounded the corner. She brushed a strand of bloody hair from her face and called after the rider, eyes widening at the sight of the two vamps standing in the bend of the buildings, waiting on the cyclist.   
  
To her surprise, she saw a sword flash as it caught the light, the rider holding it aloft as he steered the motorcycle straight at the vamps. Football ducked out of reach, but Pierced was caught in the backswing, head toppling off his shoulders with the sickening sound of wet meat hitting steel. Pierced dusted, but the rider was already focusing on Football-neck.  
  
Football, seeing the odds against him were stacked at best, charged Faith, fear and his hunger overcoming any good sense he possessed. Faith met his charge with a booted heel to his chin, hearing and feeling bone crunching beneath the steel soles. The vamp reeled backward, but recovered, blood streaming from his between his teeth. He reached once more for Faith, nails slicing through the thin cotton tank top and snagging her belly. She cried out and punched him, but he kicked the side of her head, sending her toppling to the ground.   
  
She landed and looked up at the beast, her belly on fire as blood stained the white tank, her fingers flexing and unflexing as pain crashed against the barricades in her mind. She waited for him to leapt on her. He did, but the weight atop her was double what it should be and she realized the cyclist had leapt from his bike onto the back of the vamp, stake finding its mark with ease.   
  
She looked up into the vampire's face and smiled.   
  
"Fuck." Football-neck said before his lips crumbled to ash. The cyclist suddenly fell on top of her, filling the space the vampire left behind.   
  
Silence stretched between them as Faith tried and failed to find words. Finally, he broke the silence, voice soft, as if he wasn't sure he was really seeing what he was seeing.   
  
"Faith?" He said, blue eyes imploring as he searched her face over, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon assaulting his senses.   
  
"Wesley?"   
  
***************************** 


	4. Dues Paid

Running For Our Lives  
----------------------------  
  
Chapter IV: Dues Paid  
  
"Wesley?" Faith repeated, split lip trembling as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The nights of walking by the old office, hoping...but this was real and she didn't know what to say. "What are doing here?"   
  
"I...uh...I'm here to rescue you." He answered lamely, his eyes flitting around in their sockets as if he was trying think of something to say to her.   
  
"Well in that case, can you get off of me? Kinda bleeding here." She said, wincing as his weight on top of her seemed to suddenly get heavier. A wave of nausea choked her throat and she bit it back with force.   
  
"Oh. Of course." He said, immediately rolling off of her, blood staining the front of his shirt and making the soft cotton material stick to his stomach. He stood, somewhat wearily, and offered her a hand up. She took it and struggled to her feet, feeling pain lacing through her muscles and to the many wounds on her person.   
  
"Dear God, what happened to you?" Came the startled statement from Wes. He colored as she glanced sharply up at him, quelling anything else he wanted to add.  
  
"Just a good night's slay is all. Can't come out unscathed every time, but I'm fine. " She answered, weaving a bit and pitching forward as she felt lightheadness take her. He caught her shoulders in his hands and shook her a little. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed against him, all thought escaping into darkness.   
  
Wesley caught her and scooped her up in his arms, more than a little fear threading around his heart as the rogue Slayer's head rolled limply against his shoulder. Flashes of that night in her possession came to him and he shook his head. That was a long time ago and she was sick then. That still did nothing to ease the fear as he looked into her dirty, bloody face.  
  
"Now what?" He asked to no one in particular, a great weight settling across his shoulders as she moaned, teeth gritted against the pain he knew she was feeling. He sighed and staggered to his forgotten motorcycle. The Chopper had crashed into the brick wall when he had jumped off of it and now the wheels were still moving, the engine humming with life. "Shit." He muttered, wondering how he was going to lift the bike and hold the Slayer at the same time.  
  
Faith solved the problem herself, her voice exhausted but coherent as she regained her consciousness. "Put me down."   
  
He did what he was told, setting her gently on her feet, where she swayed, eyes focusing and unfocusing in the dim light. He left her there and picked up the bike from where it had fallen. Righted, he straddled it and beckoned for her to hop on, patting the space in front of him. Normally he would have her ride on the back, but he didn't trust her to keep her seat in her weakened state.  
  
"No...I'm fine. I have to go home..." She protested, blinking in the darkness, trying to clear the haze from her eyes. The world was suddenly spinning and she felt like she was going to be sick. Once more she pitched forward, catching herself on the handlebars.  
  
"Get on. Now." Wesley said forcefully, eyeing her over the top of his glasses. She looked him up and down and then sighed wearily, giving up the ghost of protestation.   
  
Hesitantly, she sat down, groaning as she swung her leg over the handles. She found the footholds and settled back against his chest, her head slung to the side so he could see enough to steer. He revved the bike and they took off, escaping the alley and darting out into the lighted street.   
  
She passed out once more before they had gone a block, her body slack against him as he struggled to hold her up and steer at the same time. As they passed Dodger Stadium, he suddenly realized he didn't know where the hell he was going. He didn't know where she lived or if there was some place to go to. The hospital seemed like a good idea, but he knew they'd ask too many questions and from what he could see, none of the injuries on her body were life-threatening. At least not for a Slayer.   
  
He thought about taking her back to Angel Investigations, but that thought was quickly thrown out. He didn't think they'd be likely to listen to any explaination he'd have to offer. Or hers for that matter; the blood was a clean giveaway that she wasn't on the straight and narrow. And besides...once she'd see Angel, she'd just cower under his shadow and worship at his feet. Wesley scowled and decided that they diffinately were NOT going back to the hotel.  
  
Lorne's words replayed themselves in his ears and he wondered aloud at the meaning. "She needs me." He said softly into her hair, the scent he knew so well filling his nostrils and making him smile despite his reservations.   
  
With a shoulder wrenching turn, he steered the bike back toward his apartment.   
  
*************  
  
The Next Day  
  
Light streamed into the room and struck the face of the battered, bruised woman on the couch. She moaned, eyes flicking back and forth beneath eyelids smudged with kohl. A dream gripped her mind and she fought against memories that couldn't hurt her.  
  
Faces she knew and loved and hated swam before her; Buffy, Angel, her first Watcher, her mother, Xander, Allan Finch, Willow and the Mayor all laughed at her from high above and threw stones at her already bruised body. Suddenly there was someone standing in front of her, someone she knew. He blocked the stones and took the damage to himself rather than let her be beaten anymore. He turned his head, vociferate screams filled with pain as she saw his face.   
  
"Wesley!" She screamed aloud, sitting bolt upright on a strange couch. Her wild eyes looked frantically around the room and she realized she didn't know the place. But she knew the unshaven, blood stained man sitting in chair opposite the couch, his lantern jaw set and his blue eyes boring holes in her. One waisted thumb was pressed to his lips, an ink-stained fingernail between his teeth. "Wes?"   
  
"You're awake." He said simply, a weary edge to his voice. He shifted position and peered at her through thick eyelashes, his hand lowered to clench at the arms of the chair, knuckles bone white. "I was worried."   
  
"Oh." She said, shaking her hair from her face. She grimaced as she ran a hand through it, encountering more gunk and grunge than she wanted to think about.   
  
"You were having a nightmare." Another statement in a tense voice. She glanced up at him and winced at the open concern in his eyes.   
  
"Yeah. I was." She shrugged and felt the pull of a bandage on her neck. She raised one bruised, dirty hand to the wound and winced at the stab of pain that shot through her. She looked over at him again and noticed the blood stained shirt and the dirty, haggard look of him. "Geez Wes, you look like shit."   
  
"I could say the same about you." He replied immediately, one eyebrow arching as he looked her up and down. "So, are you going to tell me what the hell you were doing in that alley?"   
  
"Don't you mean, when the hell did you get out of prison, don't you?" She said, a bitter twist to her lips.   
  
"That too, if you don't mind." He answered, head tilting as he pierced her with his eyes.   
  
"Its a long story."  
  
"I've got the time and I could use a little enlightenment." He told her, scooting off the chair and falling to his knees in front of her. "You talk and I'll clean you up."   
  
She opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted her ragged shirt before she could make a sound. An uncharacteristic blush found a home just below her ears and she forced down the flutter in her stomach at his touch. She ignored him and launched into her tale, her voice as impassive as she could make it. She told him of the parole, the job, Rob, the apartment and everything else she could think of.   
  
"And the slaying? When did you start that again?" He asked, not looking up from the work he was doing, daubbing medicine on one of the slashes on her flat stomach. His fingers brushed against the mound of one breast and he swallowed hard, willing his eyes not to follow the trail of his hands. If she noticed the touch, she didn't say anything.   
  
"Oh, that. About three weeks ago. Kinda fell into it, ya know? The first time it was just necessary for survival. The next time, I was hoping for it. And after that I craved it like some kind of drug. Its like I got it in my system again and I wanted it more and more until I couldn't stop if I wanted to. And then I got caught in a nest and that's when you found me." She finished up, thinking perhaps she'd said more than she'd meant to.  
  
"I know how that goes." He said after a pregnant pause, looking up from his work and meeting her eyes. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were out?"   
  
"Well I didn't want to bother you, what with the wicked hatred and all." She answered, shrugging her shoulders, the skin under his hands quivering as she moved. A beat and then, "I'm sorry, Wesley. For what I did."   
  
Wesley sat back onto his heels and regarded her cooly. His tongue darted out and licked at the cracked, dry skin of his lips. "I know you are."  
  
"I won't blame you if you hate me." She said quietly, a softness coming to her features.   
  
"Neither would I." He replied, eyebrows furrowed as he registered the unmasked hurt flickering in her eyes. "But I know all too well what forgiveness means and I can't blame you for what you did. You know now that you were wrong and that's all I can ask for. Its in the past." He stood wearily and looked down at her, lower lip worried between his teeth.   
  
"Wes...I.." She started to say, but he cut her off.  
  
"Your dues are paid. Forget about it." A faint smile haunted his features and he turned his back to her.   
  
"Thank you." She said, standing shakily to her feet. A night of rest had already given her the strength the fight had sapped from her back, but she was still healing. "For saving me and for the totally unexpected non-hatred and forgiving." She laughed airly, her swollen lips stretched into a grin.   
  
He turned back to her and the smile that had haunted him spreading across his face. "Hungry?" He asked unexpectedly, blue eyes wide with the question.   
  
"Always am after a good slay. Or don't you remember?" She asked, stretching wide and feeling muscles popping and stretching from their slumber.   
  
"I do, actually." He answered, turning his back to her and padding his way into the spartan kitchen connected to the living room.   
  
"Swanky place Wes. I dig the cluttered Watcher look." She gestured to the piles of books and notepads that were strewn about the room.   
  
"Well, I didn't know I would have company. I would have cleaned up if I'd...known." Wesley said, turning around and shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his pants.   
  
"I'd hate to ask, but...can I mooch a shower off you? I feel wicked gross." She said, scratching at a healing scrape on her elbow.   
  
"Of course. Its right in there." He said, gesturing to the door opposite the kitchen. As she walked off, he turned back to the fridge and wondered what the hell he was going to feed her. He opened the icebox and cursed under his breath at the bareness of his shelves. How long had those eggs been in there? Wes shuddered to think.  
  
Faith edged past Wesley's bed, noticing how much room it took up. She smiled, letting a nasty little thought linger in her mind before she entered the bathroom. Either someone got some a lot, or they wished they did. She wondered which scenario was the case.   
  
The bathroom was as cluttered as the rest of the house and just as interesting. Wet towels were crumpled on the floor, the bathmat soiled with water. A hairbrush that hadn't been cleaned in ages was laying on the sink, along with a toothebrush and a big wad of used floss. Magazines were stacked up next to the toilet and she smirked as she saw a Playboy peeking out from between two issues of Science Weekly. The second scenario.   
  
With a wrinkled nose, she cleaned it all up and shook her head. "Man, Wes, you're a slob." She said as she looked through the piles of dirty clothing for a clean towel. She finally found one that looked halfway decent and she stood, her eyes meeting the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her and she grimaced.   
  
A black eye was making itself known on the left side of her face, which so dirty she was having a hard time seeing it. Her hair was clumped and bloody, of which she already knew, but there was a large cut on her scalp, and some moo-goo gai pan noodles clinging to a few strands, a souvenir of her stay in the Dumpster. She made a face and turned back to the shower.  
  
The water was warmer than the water at her hovel and she felt herself relaxing in the scalding curtain, skin turning pink in minutes. Aching muscles lost tension as she stood there; her ankle, still tender as she put weight on it, slowly strenghtened in the rejuvenating steam. The cuts and unbandaged wounds were fully washed clean of rusty flakes of blood as she stood there. She finally opened one eye and peered at the little wrack of shampoo and smiled as she read the titles.   
  
"Lilac Herbal Extract, eh? You're such a stud, Wes." She flipped the top and smelled it, lilac swirling around her nostrils. She squirted some on her hair and scrubbed so hard that the cut on her head throbbed in time to veins below the scalp. She rinsed her hair, feeling better already, and did the same with the bar of soap she found. Suds dripped off her body, taking with it the dirt of the night before and the smell of garbage. Finally, after scrubbing herself in every possible nook, not to mention the crannies, she stepped out into the swirling, warm air of Wes's bathroom and wrapped the towel around her body.   
  
"Shit." She muttered, staring morosely down at the bloody, pungent and ripped clothing on the floor. She loathed the thought of crawling back into them when she was so clean. She thought for a moment, chewing on her lip as she shivered in the rapidly cooling air.   
  
Finally, she crossed the little tiled room and cracked open the door enough so that she could peer out into the dark confines of Wesley's bedroom. Her eyes widened as she saw Wesley standing inside the room. His back to her, she watched as he slipped his shirt over his head, the muscles of his back as sleek as a cat. Her breath caught in her throat as he moved, a hardness and toughness about him that she had never noticed back in Sunnydale. When the hell had the man gotten so fuckable?   
  
The dream, the one she'd been having for months while in the limbo that was prison, came back to her full force. The thought of him, the dream him, had always been something she thought she made up. The prison psychaitrist had told her that she had put a face she wanted to trust on her ideal man and that it meant nothing. She had believed that back then and dismissed the dreams as some Freudian freakshow. But now...staring at him through the cracks of his own bathroom, she was struck by just how much he resembled the dream. And it aroused her, making her blush as she watched him, feeling more than a bit voyeristic.   
  
"You can come on out of there." Wesley suddenly said, not turning around to look at her. She started a bit and stepped back from the door, heart hammering in her chest. A moment later, she stepped out into the cold air of the bedroom, clutching the towel around her with shaking knuckles. "You can wear those."   
  
She followed his finger to the clothing on the bed and smiled. "Thanks." She said, snatching the carefully laid out pile and darting back into the bathroom as quick as she could. Saftely back in the little room, she sagged against the door and willed the fluttering in her belly to go away. Without hesitating, she pulled on the drawstring sweats and the large button-down shirt. Both were too big on her and the shirt fell over her hands, but it was roomy and it smelled a bit like him. She shrugged her shoulders and stepped out of the bathroom once more.   
  
Wesley was facing her now and she tried not stare at the newly yummy shirtlessness of him. "I made some eggs and some waffles. You can start on them while I wash up." He said, smiling kindly as he stepped past her, the back of her knees hitting the side of the bed. She eyed him for a moment and then spoke what was on her mind.  
  
"Shave while you're in there. The Grizzly Adams thing is so not working for you." He turned back to her and smiled a wide smile. He winked at her, a glint in his eyes.   
  
The door closed behind him and the shower was immediately heard on the other side. Faith watched the white wood of the door for a moment and then padded her way back into the kitchen/living room. A plate piled high with eggs and two blueberry waffles greeted her from the wooden table and she suddenly realized she was starving. She dived in immediately, savoring the taste as she waited for him to reappear. As she ate, her eyes lighted on a notepad atop the table. She picked it up, eyes going wide.   
  
Wes was tired beyond the word. A long night spent bloody and worried about his---no, the Slayer, had left him feeling a bit flustered. Although their conversation in the living room had been filled with all the things he'd managed to work through last night. In the light of reality, he knew he just couldn't hate her, even though anyone else not currently wearing his shoes might be inclined too. He just didn't have it in him anymore.  
  
What he did have was a confusing assortment of emotions and thoughts that were slowly planning on driving him crazy. Not the least of those emotions was the intense physical reaction he was having to her nearness. The sight of her in a towel, reflected in the surface of the mirror on his dresser, was more than enough, add that in to the sight of her panties strewn casually on the floor and it was almost too much. He bit down the feeling with a growl and stepped into the shower. Then he thought about the fact that she was wearing *his* pants minus those lacy panties.   
  
He turned the cold on full blast and searched for a razor.  
  
*****   
  
Faith looked up from the notepad when Wesley walked in, her breakfast forgotten as she poured over page after page of carefully written notes and words that made her breath stop in her throat. He was staring at her, a tight blue sweater stretched across his shoulders and a pair of grey slacks covering his legs.   
  
"What are you reading?" He asked, swallowing hard, his eyes penetrating as he sat down next to her. She noticed he'd shaved for her and she smiled widely.  
  
"Your notes. So Angel has a son, eh?" She answered, meeting his harsh eyes. "How'd that happen? Who's Darla?"   
  
"Kind of a long story."  
  
"Kinda have the time."   
  
So he launched into the tale and she stared at him, fingers picking at her eggs in a way that forcibly reminded him of Fred. He ignored the pang in his stomach and concentrated on telling her everything. When he told her how Connor had been taken, she was quiet and her eyes left his.   
"So that's why your neck looks like someone decided hack you up for the fun of it. Want me to kill the bitch?" She asked, taking a bite of her waffle, her tongue flicking out to lick away the little drip of syrup on her wrist. Wes shook his head and answered in a weary voice.  
  
"Don't bother. Justine had her reasons and I don't blame her for her displaced loyalty. Even if I would like to see her rotting in some festering hole in the wall." He chuckled slightly, hand tracing the puckered scar at his throat. Faith smiled up at him; the smile faded as something occurred to her.  
  
"He blames you doesn't he?"   
  
"Yes, I suppose he does. Can you blame him?"   
  
"No, but jeez man, your dues are paid. I mean, you almost died, how sorry can you be?"   
  
"You sound like Cordelia." He answered, taking a bite out of his cold eggs.  
  
"Fuck, I take it all back then." She chortled, leaning back in the chair, the smile reclaiming her features. "How is she? Still with the visions?"   
  
"Yes actually. And she's well...she's part demon." He answered, relaying the interesting effects of the transformation, including the wall-burn incident of the night before.   
  
"Wow, I'm wicked impressed. Don't know if I would do all that for the man I loved though." She answered, nodding her head and running a casual hand through her damp hair.  
  
"What? Oh, Cordelia and Angel? They're not...they're not in love." Wes said with about as much confidence as a baby taking his first steps.   
  
"Yeah, cuz you sound real convinced there, Chachi. I may not know much, but I do know how love works. Which kinda surprises me because I thought Angel and Buffy were the forever kind of love. I guess she moved on and so did he." A shadow passed her features as she remembered the night with Riley, a bitter taste in her mouth. She hastily changed the subject. "You crushing on anyone?"   
  
He colored and waved his hand. "Where would I find the time, what with the backstabbing and betrayal?" His tone was a bit more bitter than he meant it to be, and she nodded, catching the far away look in his eyes.  
  
"She's not good enough for you anyway." She said, looking him soberly in the eyes.   
  
"I'm afraid she's too good actually." He said with a nervous laugh, a wry smile wrenching his lips. "Anyway she's happy and that's all I care about."   
  
"You love her?" She found herself asking before she could stop herself. She wasn't upset that she'd asked it though, she truly wanted to know.  
  
"Thought I did..." Suddenly the phone rang, cutting off his thoughts. Wes leapt for the phone before the answering machine could pick it up. "Hello?"   
  
"Wes? Jeez...I was worried when you didn't come back from that patrol last night. Are okay?" Cordelia said in a rush; he heard Fred's breathy voice in the background ask, "Is he there!!??"  
  
"I'm fine Cordelia. Tell Fred I'm okay." A muffled relay of his message and then Cordelia was back on the line. Wesley turned his back on Faith and walked into his bedroom for privacy. Faith watched him go, fear gripping her heart; she stood, unsure of what do do.   
  
"Thank God! Did you save that girl? Why was did she need you?" Cordelia's voice was thick was interest and Wesley wondered how much he ought to tell her.  
  
"I helped her and now she's okay. She just needed some advice only I could give her, I guess. You know how that goes." He said noncommitally. Thank God Cordelia didn't press the issue as she went on.  
  
"Good. And I know it was meant for you, but that didn't mean you had go off all half-cocked and without backup, no matter how much Lorne insisted you didn't need it."   
  
"I...had some backup. And everything went fine. I'm a little bruised up though, so I won't be coming into the office today."   
  
"I was just about to tell you not to come in. You need a day off and all you do here is sit in your little corner and brood anyway, so just stay at home. Eat some cereal, watch some cartoons, have a good time, which I know you won't." She told him, perky, pesky voice chirping at him from the other end of the phone.   
  
"I'll try. See you tomorrow." He said in a dry voice and then hung up before she could add anything else to her diatribe. Silence filled the room as he walked back into the kitchen.   
  
Her chair was empty, the plate of half-eaten eggs sitting forlornly on the table. He looked around and noticed that her boots were gone too, the door to the apartment standing wide open.   
  
"Fuck!" He muttered under his breath and ran to the door, head ducking out of the little hallway to the stairs. Nothing. She was gone. He closed the door to his apartment and kicked at the coffee table, sending magazines flying, rage seething in his chest.   
  
He wondered if he'd ever see her again. Lorne's words came back to haunt him and he sighed heavily, wearily sinking down onto the couch that she had occupied during the impossibly long night.   
  
Lorne had said she needed him, and he needed her just as badly; Wes didn't stop to wonder for what. She'd be back.   
  
*********************** 


	5. Coming For Her

Running for Our Lives  
-----------------------------  
  
Chapter V: Coming for Her  
  
Two days later saw a broody Wes hiding out in his little corner. The notes on the Quototh were laid out precisely before him, but he wasn't concentrating on them. His thoughts were far away and lingering on a pair of warm brown eyes.   
  
"Oh...you've got it bad. Turn down that aura, bro." Lorne said, perching himself on the edge of the cluttered desk. Wesley looked up and furrowed his brow.  
  
"What? I..uh..." He stammered out, ink-stained fingers darting up to the puckered slash.   
  
"Ease it down. I'm not going to tell them." The Host whispered, leaning down toward him, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "So, I take it went sorta well?"  
  
"If you consider well as the state of not knowing where she is, or if she's okay; then yes, it went smashing." The irony dripped from his voice and he glanced back down to his notes.  
  
"Pulled a Houdini on ya, eh? She's a wily one, that girl. But I wonder if she knows how big you've got it for her. That might make her come running home, oh me oh my." Lorne joked, white teeth flashing as Wesley's eyes widened. "Don't lay the guilt on so much. She's hot, she's young and from what I could See, she's a real sex kitten." Lorne chuckled and glanced around the lobby.   
  
"Its not like that. I'm her--I was her Watcher. I don't feel..." He started to say, but Lorne cut him off.  
  
"Sure, just like you don't "feel" for a certain brown-haired Texan who shall remain nameless. Believe me bro, that ship will never sail and she's on her true path. Gunn needs her and she needs him. Kinda like you and Faith, if you catch my meaning." Lorne ran a hand over his horns and frowned. "You know, I should really charge you people for my advice. I'm like that hot-ass Miss Cleo..." Off Wesley's look he waved his hand and scooted off the desk. "Nevermind."  
  
"Right..." He said, shaking his head. Lorne left him and trotted up the stairs.   
  
Wesley watched him go, eyes shadowed and the line of his jaw hard. His eyes wandered and he spotted Fred and Gunn standing just outside the front doors. A pang shot through him as they kissed, oblivious to anything around them. It had been so long since he'd felt that. Well, not so long; he dimly remembered the world narrowing to the pain-filled face of the girl laying on his couch. He swallowed hard and stood, reaching for his jacket.  
  
He walked past Fred and Gunn on their way into the hotel and ignored their quizzical looks.   
  
"Where ya going Wesley?" Fred asked him, her lilting voice echoing in his mind.  
  
"Out. I'll see you tomorrow." He answered, not turning his head as he reached for the handle of the door.  
  
"Be careful man." Gunn called after him; the words were cut off as the door slammed shut on Wesley's back. He hopped onto the bike parked out front and kicked it to life.   
  
As he sped off down the street he whispered through gritted teeth, "Wherever you are Faith, I'm coming."   
  
******************  
  
Faith sat down outside Wesley's apartment building, her shadow hidden behind a manzanita bush. She watched as he pulled up to the curb and walked his bike into the stairwell of the apartment building. Her breath caught in her throat as he stopped and glanced in her direction, his brow furrowed. A beat and then he closed the door, leaving her in the darkness.   
  
She watched the shadows moving in his apartment and she wondered what he was doing or if he was thinking about her. Not that she cared; she didn't need anyone, let alone Wesley.   
  
So what was she doing here? She didn't know the answer anymore than she knew why she had run out of his place. Why she was pissed at herself for telling him so much and why she was worried about him and his apparant guilt over what he had done to Angel. Why she found herself smiling whenever she thought about the way he had showed up just in time to rescue her from herself. Why last night she had imagined him touching her as she touched herself, wishing it was his fingers, his skin and his lips at her flesh. Why she woke with his image on her pillow.   
  
But she didn't need him. She didn't anyone.  
  
With a disgusted sigh, she stood and walked away from his apartment. She didn't need him, not when she had slaying. As she patrolled, she felt her soul hardening. She could do this alone and she could be good. But as a vampire dusted in front of her, something happened. The rush, the piece of her soul that had always been filled in, didn't. Empty. It meant nothing to her; it was just another kill. *She* was just another killer.  
  
She collapsed in the dirt and her face crumpled into a sob that took her and shook her and reduced her to a crying child. It wasn't enough, not anymore. Thoughts and words that she didn't want to entertain came calling in her mind and she pushed them away. She wanted more than to exist and to kill and she mourned the loss of the hardness she had tried so hard to achieve.  
  
And she blamed him.  
  
********************  
  
"Our invited guests have finally joined us. They have agreed to be of service to the Council once more." Quentin opened the door and Andras's eyes widened as their guests walked into the already crowded room.  
  
"They're here?" Lydia squeeked; Andras's gaze flicked over to her face and saw her eyes were wide, her face pale. From the depths of his memory, Andras pulled out what information he could remember about the Five. It was obvious that Father Abernathy's discriptions were woefully out of date.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Five." Travers announced formally, bowing to the five women before him. Although calling them women was hardly accurate, Andras thought as he watched each one of them in turn. Sisters they may be, but they were as different as night and day. The only thing they held in common so far as looks were concerned was the half-moon branded in the skin around the curve of their right eye. As he watched them, the fear and concern rose in his throat, threatening to choke off his air. Faith was in danger; much more danger than even he had realized.   
  
"Ladies, you will depart for Los Angeles immediately. And remember, we want Faith dead. No playing with her." Travers said, eyeing the child-like sister as she trilled in excitement. Andras gulped back a protest and bit his lip. Now was not the time to get into another arguement with Travers on the finer points of keeping a perfectly good Slayer alive, nor to tell him that Faith was no longer idle in her chosen craft.   
  
As the Five turned and walked out of the little office, the rest of the Watchers followed behind them a bit warily. Andras watched them go, plans forming in his mind. Watching the Five, his brow furrowed as they stepped out into the street and suddenly broke from the close-nit group and scattered off into five different directions. They were gone in an instant.   
  
His mouthed gaped open and he realized they were making a game of this; the first to Faith wins some sort of brutal prize; he shuddered to think of what it could possibly be. He turned back to the mansion, knowing that now was the time to act. If only Mr. Wyndam-Pryce was willing....  
  
****************** 


	6. Calling

Running For Our Lives  
-----------------------------  
  
Chapter VI: Calling  
  
Three Days Later  
  
Wes trudge wearily up the steps to his apartment, thoughts turned inward. Three days of searching the area around Elysian Park had turned up nothing, although he had found a stake in the alley he had rescued her in. And it wasn't one he recognized from the arsenal of the hotel; it must have been hers. His eyes glued to the sharp, rough object in his hands, he didn't notice the lithe young woman sitting with her back against the door of his apartment until she spoke.  
  
"Oh hey, you found one of my stakes." Faith said, looking up at him soberly. She was bleeding from a wound on her hand, the knuckles split and raw.   
  
"Your hand!" He exclaimed, crouching down before and taking the bruised hand in his own. "Come inside and I'll clean that for you." He said as he helped her to her feet.  
  
Once inside, she sprawled across his couch, head tilted to the side as she watched him puttering around in the kitchen, a collection of bandages and medications in his arms.   
  
"Jeez, I think a band-aid would have done it." She chuckled; he sent her a look of extreme annoyance and she quelled the words that threatened to tumble out of her mouth. A long pause filled with the quotitian sounds of the street below and he finally looked up at her.  
  
"I didn't think I'd see you again."   
  
"Me neither, ain't that a pisser?" She said earnestly, one hand running through her slightly wavy hair.   
  
"So why are you here?" He asked, setting her now bandaged hand onto her knee as if it was made of glass. "I don't think it was for the complimentary patch-up."   
  
"Why? Do you want me to go?" The edge in her tone told him what her words did not.   
  
"No. I want you to stay; we have to talk." He said forcefully, looking into her eyes. "Why did you leave the other day?"   
  
"Why did you tell Angel I was out of prison?" She countered, mouth turning into a frowny pout. Hurt spiderwebbed through her eyes and Wesley winced.  
  
"I didn't. He doesn't know." He told her in a stony voice, averting his eyes.  
  
"Why didn't you tell him?" Surprise graced her features as she looked at him.  
  
"Because, frankly, it's none of his business. You are no longer the killer you were and I don't see any reason why he has to know. If you want to see him, that's your business." He answered back, shrugging his shoulders and settling down onto the couch beside her. With a pang of jealousy, he hoped she didn't want to see Angel at all.  
  
"So you're not going rat on me?" He shook his head and stared up at the ceiling, a sigh heavy on his lips. Once more silence filled the space between them and she tugged absently on the gnarled fuzz on his couch cushions. "Thanks."   
  
"My pleasure. Now what *are* you doing here? I mean, what do want? I'm sure its not to eat my cooking and watch Hollywood Squares with me." He replied, not tearing his eyes away from the cobweb in the corner of his living room. "Although I do a killer impression of Bruce Valanch..."   
And suddenly, his vision was broken by a pale face looming over him, eyes squeezed shut as she straddled his lap. Her lips crushed over his before he could utter a protest. Her tongue was sweet and she tasted like a carmel apple as she explored his mouth fully. Her fingers slid themselves along the curve of his jaw line and he wanted to tell her to stop whatever the hell she was doing because it wasn't right, it was wrong, very, very wrong and my God she felt so warm sitting over his crotch, her sleek thighs brushing his ribs....  
  
He broke off the kiss and grabbed hold of her shoulders, shaking her with teeth-rattling force. "Faith! What are you doing?" A beat and then realization dawned in her eyes and she shuddered, head lowered with shame.   
  
A single tear rolled down her cheek and she collapsed against his chest, head buried in the soft cotton folds of his shirt. "I'm disgusting." She moaned out, a sob lodged in her throat. He gathered her against him, ignoring the still tingly sensations quaking in his belly as she rubbed against him. He desperately willed his hard on away and concentrated on the girl in his arms.  
  
"You're not disgusting, love." He murmered into her hair, one hand smoothing down the wrinkles of her tank top.   
  
"Yes I am." She sniffled and sat up, eyes raw and red-rimmed. "I'm a killer."  
  
"No, you *were*. You're better now." He said, his hands pressed to her face, his thumb wiping away the tears.   
  
"No I'm not. I thought I could be normal but I can't be. There's something inside of me that *needs* to kill and I can't stop it. At first I was just scared, but then I just thought that I was slaying because it was right. But its not right and its killing me." The words tumbled out and were so leaden with guilt he was nearly crushed under the weight of it.   
  
"I think...." He said slowly, forming his words carefully, "I think that you're confusing killing with slaying. Slaying is good and it's your calling. You can no more ignore that part of yourself than I could ignore my thirst for knowledge. It's a part of who you are. But that does not make you a killer; a killer has no conscience about their actions. You've just proven you've changed."  
  
"But how do you know? I could kill you right now..." Her words ran a chill up his spine and he looked down at her hands, which were filled with more strength than he could ever have possessed.   
  
"Yes you could. But you won't." He said with much more certainty than he felt. "I trust you Faith."   
  
"I want you to be my Watcher again." Her gaze was sharp, her voice sharper. Surprise flashed in her eyes and he wondered if she even knew she had said it.   
  
If her words were totally unexpected to her, it surprised him and shook whatever comforting words he had prepared from his lips. "What?"   
  
"I can't do this alone. I need you. Say you need me. Please?" The words were desperate and tear-filled; he felt her pathos as plainly as his own and he folded her up in his arms, protecting her from the world.  
  
"I need you Faith. I need you." He whispered to her hair, sobs wracking her frame as he willed strength into her.   
  
"Will you?"  
  
"I will. I promise."   
  
Suddenly, the phone rang, making them both leap and surge on each other. Wesley colored and Faith slid off of his lap, wiping at the tears with the back of her bandaged hand. He reached for the phone and and picked it up, slightly out of breath.  
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Mr. Wyndham-Pryce?" Came a harried, panicked, very English voice on the other end of the phone. Wesley started and answered, wondering what was going on.  
  
"Yes, this is he. May I help you?"  
  
"Oh thank God! I've been trying to ring you for days. It's Faith."   
  
"Yes...what about her?" Wesley said hesitantly, staring down at the sniffling Slayer.  
  
"She's free. The Council...they're going to kill her. You have to--" And suddenly the line went dead, the dialtone ringing in his ear. Wesley's eyes went wide and he stared back at Faith, who turned her coffee brown eyes toward him imploringly.   
  
"What?" Was all she got out as something dark and small crashed through the window, twin swords flashing.   
  
********************  
  
Andras stared numbly at the hand atop the hook, which effectively cut him off, leaving silence on the other end of the phone. He turned very slowly, meeting the face that the hand belonged to with much more bravery than he felt. Any surety he had felt that his actions had gone unnoticed were lost to the ether as he met a familiar pair of green eyes.  
  
"Tsk. Tsk. Mr. Connelly. You had such a bright future with the Council." Quentin Travers said, one corner of his mouth twitching as he took a step back from the bright red telephone booth. Behind him, Andras could make out the black-clad forms of several Council Operatives standing in the shadows of the darkened street.   
  
"How did you find me?" He asked, face impassive.   
  
"We're the Watcher's Council, Andras. There is nothing you have ever done that we do not know about." Travers said, smirking at the younger man.  
  
"You're going to murder an innocent girl." He choked out as something cold and hard and metal was pressed against his temple. From the corner of his eye, he saw Patil holding the gun steady, a bloodthirsty smile on his lips.  
  
"Faith is no innocent." Patil spat, eyes blazing.  
  
"You're wrong about that." Andras protested, jaw clenched.   
  
"You'll never know. Goodbye Mr. Connelly." Travers nodded his head slightly, eyes steady. Andras squeezed his eyes shut, praying for himself and the girl he knew was surely going to follow him. Silence. And then...  
  
Patil pulled the trigger.   
  
********************* 


	7. Explosion

Running For Our Lives  
----------------------------  
  
  
Chapter VII: Explosion  
  
"Okay. Between you and Wesley, the brooding is getting too damned much." Cordelia said, plunking herself down in front of Angel. He looked up from the book in his hands, eyes bloodshot and sunken in.   
  
"Cordelia..."   
  
"Don't Cordelia me. I'm tired of it. This has gone on long enough and you're going to go tell Wesley you're sorry for treating him like a leper."  
  
"I haven't been---"  
  
"YES. You have! You need him and the way you're treating him is just driving him into insane-o land. You're both sorry, so stop acting like a couple of bickering old women and suck it up. We're not going to get Connor back if we fight amongst ourselves." Cordelia told him, standing up and bringing him up with her.   
  
"I know...I just... It hurts Cordy." Angel said in a haunted voice, frowning down at her. She hugged him and muttered into the dark cotton of his shirt.  
  
"Of course it does, but its going to hurt a lot more if you lose Wes too. I need you both, as friends and family again." She said, exasperation and sorrow in her voice.   
  
"Alright. I'll try." He murmered into her hair, smiling slightly.   
  
"Goodie! We'll go over to his place right now!" She said, bounding out of his arms and making him feel slightly naked without her draped across his chest. Her smile stretched wide and she tossed his duster at him.   
  
"Right now? I was thinking we'd work our way up to..." His voice trailed off at the resolve on her face. "Or we could go now." He said, following her out of the hotel.   
  
********************  
  
Wesley dropped the phone and dived for Faith, slamming into her and the couch and making it topple backward. The two hit the ground and rolled behind its meager shelter as the intruder sliced at the coffee table.  
  
The sound of splintering wood filled the air and Wesley's eyes widened, face inches from Faith's, a bewildered expression gracing her features. "What the hell is going on?"   
  
"No time. Come on!" He grunted, ducking his head as the black-clad figure leapt over the couch. Faith instictively kicked out her leg, connecting solidly with the intruder's knee. The knee buckled and the intruder went down, giving Wesley time to crawl to his weapon's trunk. He grabbed the nearest weapon and tossed it to Faith.  
  
On her knees, Faith caught the proffered sword and blocked a swing from one of the assassin's blades just in time. Wes flinched as the sound of metal on metal reverberated off the walls. Faith climbed to her feet, pushing back the assassin with her blade as she rose.   
  
They circled each other, sizing up the competition, eyes narrowed. Faith watched the woman, ice-blue eyes and skin-tight ninja gear giving nothing away. Her movements were fluid and cat-like, her body small and compact. The blades in her hands seemed to work as extentions of her body. Faith knew immediately this woman was a skilled opponent and nearly her equal.   
  
And, as the ninja spun at her, wicked blades flashing and sliding against the edge of Faith's blade, she noticed she was strong too. Too strong for a human and Faith smiled. She could kill this one.   
  
The assassin nodded at her and the battle began in earnest, each spinning, ducking, blocking and kicking. Faith reeled under several punches to her face and middle, anger seething in her soul. The assassin was good, but Faith was better; she turned the tables and Faith felt her booted heel connect solidly with the ninja's sidearm, knocking the blade from her hands; it skittered across the floor and out of sight. The ninja's ice-blue eyes narrowed once more and she felt anger flashing just below that carefully schooled surface.   
  
Then, as if the loss of one blade was enough to give her more strength, the ninja kicked out, hitting Faith in the chest and knocking her over the toppled couch. Faith rolled with the blow and came up on her knees, one hand clutching a piece of smashed coffee table. She threw the makeshift stake and watched as it was buried in her shoulder. The ninja staggered back two steps and dropped her blade, all feeling lost in the swordhand.  
  
"Not a vamp, but that'll do." Faith said, jumping back over the couch. She grabbed the bleeding assassin and hauled her back against the wall. "So, wanna tell me who you are?" Faith asked, ripping off the ninja's face mask. Her eyes widened as she saw the ninja had no mouth. "Ewww." Was all she got out as the ninja freed a hand and punched her.   
  
A tuck and roll brought her back to her lost blade and she scooped it up, swinging it an arch that would have taken Faith's hand off at the wrist if she hadn't have twisted out of the way at the last minute. Stumbling backward, Faith tried to footsweep her, but she countered, going low and catching Faith on the arm.   
  
She gritted her teeth as blood sprang from the wound, adrenaline surging as her anger came. She leapt to her feet and danced around the assassin, blades crashing, clicking, fists flying when she saw weakness.  
  
Meanwhile, Wesley hadn't been idle; he was busy loading his repeating crossbow with arrows, cursing as he dropped one and then had to roll out of the way of the fighting women. Finally the last arrow was in the groove and he raised it, looking for a shot. It was then, as he watched them, eyes squinted through the glare reflected on his glasses, that he saw it. His blood ran cold as he saw the crescent moon tattoo on the side of the ninja's face.   
  
"Mateo!" He called, making the mouthless demonic woman lift her head and stare sharply at him. Her chest was clear to him and he fired, shot after shot, transfixing the demon with arrows like a straw dummy. "Faith! Now!"   
  
Faith took his cue and ran the demon through with her sword, the blade sliding in to the hilt. As she did so, a high, shrill scream was heard throughout the room and they both had to clutch their hands to their ears, even though they knew that the sound was echoing in their skulls. Faith grunted and pulled the sword out of Mateo's middle and kicked the body to the floor. The scream petered out and the body was still.  
  
Faith looked up at Wesley, chest heaving, blood flowing steadily from the slice on her arm. "What the hell was that about?" She asked him, flicking hair out of her eyes.  
  
"Mateo. She's a sister of the Five." Wesley answered, putting down his empty crossbow and grimacing down at the seeping green blood stain on the floor.   
  
"Five? Five what?"   
  
"Five immortal demons who claim to be sisters. They're highly experienced killers, quite deadly from what I remember. This is Mateo, the psychic assassin, that's why she needs no mouth." Wesley said, grabbing her arm and wiping away blood with his palm. He examined the wound and pressed his hand against it, blood flowing sluggishly through his fingers.   
  
"Wow, you can take the man off the Council, but you can't take the Watcher outta the man." Faith said, smiling crookedly at him.   
  
"That's....that's an odd choice of words." Wesley began, wondering how much he should tell her, when suddenly he felt, rather than saw, the "dead body" moving.   
  
Time slowed as he turned to face Mateo's fallen body, eyes widening as she sat up, nerveless fingers holding up her last weapon. Faith saw it too and grabbed Wesley around the waist, hauling him backward. She crashed through the already broken window, Wes in her arms.  
  
They hit the ground just as the grenade in Mateo's hands exploded and the building went up in a glass shattering, earth moving ball of fire. Faith rolled out of the way as glass rained down on them, dragging an unconscious Wesley with her. She moaned as she saw one side of his face was thick with blood, a wound on the side of his face bleeding like the proverbial butchered pig. Wincing, she dragged him away just as large, fiery wooden beam descended upon them, the side of it catching Faith on the leg.   
  
She screamed, fire licking at her leg and running up the cloth of her pants.  
  
*********************  
  
Angel threw the car into park and dived over Cordelia, blocking her from the fiery debris raining down on them. She cowered under him, eyes wide as her heart tapped a stuccato beat in her chest. Finally after what seemed like years, Angel let her up and she stared in shock at the wreckage of Wesley's apartment building.   
  
"Come on!" Angel said, pulling her along after him, not bothering to slam the door of the convertible. He ran to the wreckage and entered the burning building, heat scorching his face. Cordelia followed closely behind him, hand over her mouth as she tried not to breath in the smoke. When he got to what he assumed was once Wesley's front door, he kicked the ruined wood away from the frame and barged in.   
  
His heart sunk as the first thing he saw was a dark lump burning on the floor and several charred limbs strewn across the blazing floor. Behind him, he heard Cordelia scream. He turned, gathering her up and hiding the sight from her view.   
  
Suddenly, the floor beneath them began to buckle and Angel scooped her up, running down the stairs as fast as he could. Out in the clear air, Cordelia coughed, tears streaming down her ash-smudged cheeks. "Oh God..Wesley! Angel...Wesley's dead!"  
  
But Angel ignored her, eyes blazing red as he saw Faith pull out in the convertible, her face pale, eyes wild. Their gazes met across the distance and the Slayer started, mouth open in shock. Then her face went hard and she squealed away from the curb and sped off down the street.  
  
**************** 


	8. Good Idea/Bad Idea

Running For Our Lives  
------------------------------  
  
Chapter VIII: Good Idea/Bad Idea  
  
  
Angel slammed the door to the hotel shut so hard that the glass shattered the wooden frame splintered. Gunn and Fred, sitting behind the main desk, looked up with startled expressions on their faces.   
  
"What's the matter?" Fred asked, eyes wide as she took in the soot-stained clothing and the tears on Cordelia's face. Angel ignored her and kicked at the grey island sofa, his vamp face coming out and his eyes turning a hard yellow.   
  
"Whoa! Calm down! What the hell happened? Where's Wesley?" Gunn asked, vaulting over the front desk and landing before Cordelia. She looked up at him with bleak eyes, lip trembling.  
  
"He's dead." She whispered breathlessly; she was finding it difficult to breath or even think. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't.   
  
"What?" Gunn and Fred echoed each other, mouths dropping open and eyes going as round as saucers.  
  
"There was...an explosion. There was, there was nothing left. Just a pile of....it smelled so horrible." Cordelia said, eyes haunted as fresh tears sprang to her eyes.  
  
"Oh God!" Fred exclaimed, burying her head against Gunn's shoulder. He patted her with an unreassuring hand, lips open like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't form words. Finally he found his voice and squeezed out the only words he could think of.   
  
"Who did it?" His mind immediately went to Wolfram & Hart and stayed there, wishing he could tear those damn lawyers apart limb from limb himself. Angel looked up from his rampage, rage seething in his eyes and his hands clenched so hard his palms were bleeding.   
  
"Faith. She killed him." He said, mouth thick with saliva as he growled through his teeth.   
  
"Faith? The Slayer?" Gunn exclaimed, sitting Fred down on the couch, letting his anger force the tears he wanted to cry out of his eyes.   
  
"Yes. I saw her. That murdering bitch killed him. I saw her. I can't believe I ever...ever thought she was good. What a fool." Angel said, face unvamping, but the harshness staying in his eyes. "If I'd known she was even out..."  
  
"Angel, don't blame yourself. You didn't do this. Faith did and she's not getting away with it." Cordelia said, lifting her head. Fred saw a hatred in the girl's hazel eyes that she had never seen before. Whoever this Faith was, she didn't have a prayer.   
  
"What do you mean?" Gunn asked, seeing the gears in the Seer's brain moving at lightning speed.   
  
"I mean we're going after her. She took Angel's car. Can we track the car at all? Find out where she is and hunt her down and kill her?" Cordelia asked through clenched teeth, turning her attention to Fred.  
  
"Did you leave anything in the car? Cell phone? I could trace the signal...I think." Fred asked in a breathy voice, head wrapping around the ideas as quickly as possible. Angel, jaw clenched, fished into his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. Cordelia cursed under her breath and kicked at the sofa.   
  
"Credit cards?" Gunn suggested, massaging the back of Fred's neck with one strong hand. Fred looked back at him, chewing her bottom lip.  
  
"There are two cards in the glove compartment!" Cordelia said, eyes red and full of fire. "Can you track those?"  
  
"If she uses them....I think I can. I'm not sure." Fred said, shrugging her shoulders.  
  
"Be sure." Angel said, placing his hands on the back of Cordelia's neck and burying his head in her short hair. The tears had stopped rolling down her cheeks and vengeance was burning in her; Angel could feel her pain and anger and he trembled with her, barely contained. "But first, get me Faith's address. She must have been living somewhere and her probation must be on record.   
  
"Alright." Fred said, standing up and bringing Gunn with her. Her mouth was set in a grim line and her chin rose confidently as she raced to the computer. Within minutes she was clacking and concentrating on the screen, her brow furrowed into a jagged line across her forehead.   
  
"What are we going to do if she doesn't use them?" Gunn asked Angel, swallowing hard, his face the color of ashes.   
  
"If she doesn't, then I'll hunt her down another way." Angel said roughly, face changing and unchanging as he spoke. Gunn backed up a step, eyes wide.   
  
Cordelia looked back at the vampire and opened her mouth to say something to him, but Fred interrupted, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I have her address." She said, holding up a piece of paper, eyes shadowed.  
  
"We're going tonight. Gunn, stay here and keep an eye out. She might come by here looking for more trouble. Cordelia, come with me." Angel told the taller man, lips pressed into a thin line.  
  
"Good idea and don't worry, she comes here looking for trouble, she's going to find it." Gunn said, anger he was trying and failing to hold in coming out and adding steel to his voice. Angel nodded and with that, he walked out, Cordelia in tow.  
  
  
***********************  
  
  
Somewhere in the desert, a figure stopped, head snapping up as an unseen force twanged through her soul. The figure kneeled in the dirt, eyes closed as she recieved an image on the inside of her eyelids.   
  
FireDeathSwordsArrowsSlayerManSisterMateoDEAD. Four.  
  
Anger laced through the demon's chest and she stood, form changing and unchanging as her majicks were interrupted by the transfer of death-energy. A slight burning sensation lanced through the crescent-shaped scar around her eye and she grimaced. Finally, she closed her hands and resumed her woman-shape, bright pink hair nearly glowing in the moonlit desert, shoulders shrugging her arsenal into place as the steel returned to her eyes.  
  
Revenge and the prize lay before her and she opened herself up to the Slayer's aura. Far across the desert, she found her by fear and the power only the Slayer could possess. She was coming straight to her.   
  
Uriah smiled and waited.  
  
  
************************  
  
  
Wesley moaned, head throbbing in time to his heartbeat. He grimaced and felt something flaky and crusted on the side of his face as he did so. He was aware that he was in something moving, with a slight breeze blowing across the nape of his neck. Opening one eye, he noticed everything up close was a bit blurred.   
  
"Where are my glasses?" He asked, saying the first thing that popped into his head as he sat up and blinked, wind hitting him straight in the face.   
  
"You lost them." Wesley jumped and turned, a mouthful of air whistling through his teeth as pain thump-thumped through his skull. Faith, sitting behind the wheel of...Angel's car?, stared back at him. Her face was pale and pinched, blood dried over her purple tank top in great splatters, one sliced arm wrapped with a makeshift tourniquet. The side of her leg, he noticed, was burnt, the pant leg charred away and the skin beneath slightly pink.   
  
"Oh." Was all he could think of, wondering why the hell they were in Angel's car and why the hell they were doing..."In the desert? Why are we in the desert?"   
  
Faith was silent, eyes shifting everywhere, trying to avoid his wide blue stare. She gulped and shrugged, ruby red lip tucked between her teeth.   
  
"Faith?" He persisted, shifting position on the seat and glaring at her.   
  
"Okay, so I freaked out! I thought you were dead for a minute and the explosion and the ninja thing and then Angel was there....I was kinda confused and running was the only thing I could think of." She said, gulping back a thousand things she wanted to say, but she wasn't the type to tell him she was scared to death.   
  
"I understand; you were scared, but we have to go back. If Angel saw you there and I'm not around, he's going to think you did something. And I'm afraid in his current state, you don't want to make an enemy of him." Wes said, shaking his head to clear it.   
  
"I know we have to go back, but do we have to go tonight? You look half dead and I'm ready to pass out." She asked, yawning hard enough to crack her jaw. Wesley grimaced and understood exactly what she was saying. He was tired and not just from the fight or the head injury; weeks of stress and insomnia were catching up to him fast.  
  
"We should stop, but unless you brought your wallet, I'm afraid we're sleeping in the car." He said, shifting uncomfortably at the thought. What he wanted was a warm bath and a bed. With a gut-wrenching pang he realized his apartment had just been blown to bits and everything he owned was toast.   
  
"No we aren't." Faith said, a mad glint in her eyes.   
  
"What do you mean?" He asked, eyeing her sharply, but she just smiled and kept driving. A few minutes later she eased the car to a stop in front a little motel on the side of the road, one that looked about as inviting as the car. He eyed the flashing neon sign that read Desert Rose Motel and frowned. "Why are we stopping here?"   
  
"Cuz we're going to get a room." She said, stepping out of the car and gesturing him to come with her. She shushed his protest with a finger to her lips and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him along behind her. The motel gave Wesley the creeps because it reminded him strongly of the Bates Motel in "Psycho" and he wondered for a moment if that movie was modeled after this place.   
  
He watched as Faith slunk to the room on the end and pried open the window, the wood splintering under her fingers as she let her strength loose on it. The window open, she promptly slid inside, the frame digging into her belly.   
  
"Faith! This is a bad idea." Wesley hissed and poked his head into the window. She grinned up at him from the darkness and grabbed his shirt once more and pulled him into the room head first. He fell onto the floor with a muffled crash.   
  
"I got us a room. As long as we don't turn on the lights, we're golden." She said, closing the window behind him. He stood and frowned, then shrugged.   
  
"Fine, but if we get in trouble, I'm giving you a preemptive 'I told you so'. Got it?" Wes said, grinning slightly and eyeing the room. Drab wallpaper, drab bed and no tv. It was a good thing they weren't paying for the place or he'd seriously have a complaint or two for the manager. As it was, beggars couldn't be choosers and they were definately begging.   
  
"Gotcha, but I've done this a million times before. Don't worry." She said, stretching and then falling back on the lone bed. He chuckled and wondered when she had done this before, but decided not to ask. The past was best left in the past, especially when the future was so uncertain. That thought brought him right back to the Council and he wondered what he should tell her and decided it could wait until the morning.   
  
They both sat down on the edge of the bed, Wesley very aware that they had only one bed and that there were two of them. And as he had always been good at math, the numbers didn't change no matter how much he ran them through his mind. "So uh...I'll just sleep on the floor." He stammered, reaching for a pillow.   
  
"Yeah, that's probably best..." She said, biting her lip and looking like she wanted to say something else. She watched him through slitted eyes as he bedded down on the floor, and she curled up on the creaking mattress. Silence stretched and the darkness seemed to grow shapes that wanted to reach out and grab her. She draped one arm over the side and groped for Wesley's hand.  
  
He took it and held her hand, fingers warm and sweaty in the darkness. "Faith?"  
  
"What are the Five?" Her voice was so terror filled and innocent that he wanted to wrap himself around her and keep her from the world.  
  
"They're demon assassins. All female, all very powerful and immortal. From what I can remember they're connected to each other in a spiritual way. And some of them can change shape. I wish I knew more, but I'm finding it hard to remember all the details about them. The Council used to work against them...but..." His voice trailed off and he gulped, wondering if she'd pick up on the terror in his voice as he mentioned the Watcher's Council.   
  
"Why do they want to kill me?" She asked, blithely unaware of his tremoring voice.  
  
"You're a great prize Faith. Its not many that get to kill a Slayer and I suppose the Five jumped at the chance to have the honor. I do know that they won't stop until you're dead or all five sisters are. And even then, I suppose....I suppose that won't stop anyone or anything else from coming for you." He frowned at the revelation in his words. Faith wasn't safe anymore and he knew it. He knew it just as surely as he knew that if they went back to L.A., where they expected her to be, she was going to be targeted.   
  
"I guess not, but I'm a Slayer, I'm used to daily death threats. Kinda goes with the territory, ya know?" She said lightly, snuggling down into the bed, the springs groaning under her meager weight.   
  
"True." Wes said noncommittaly, thoughts turned inward. She was silent after that, her breathing steady. He kept her hand in his own, one thumb rubbing her skin as he thought. As much as he knew they should head back to L.A. and Angel Investigations, there was a part of him that didn't want to. That part, the same part that still wondered why he wasn't dead, wanted to keep going with her, to run as far and as fast as they could go. Alone they could make it somewhere safe, couldn't they?   
  
Logic asserted itself and he shook his head. They had to go back to Los Angeles, where there were people he cared about and needed him. And her. Jealousy stabbed through him as he thought about what Angel would do with her once they got back. He'd do the sympathetic, soulful eyes routine that made her want to hide beneath his wings and let him protect her.   
  
Wesley wanted to protect her, he realized. He wanted to be the one she ran to, the one she shared sympathy with, the one who kept her from the world. In the end, jealousy ruled out and he decided to keep going, no matter what his logical side was telling him.   
  
There was also the fact that the jealous part of him was wondering if anyone in L.A. even cared if he was alright and even though he knew better, the idea stuck in his craw and wouldn't leave. When he finally fell asleep, it was with a bitter taste in his mouth.   
  
******************   
  
A/N: See? No killing of Wesley! Not in my world! NEVER EVER...welll at least not yet...*cryptic cryptic* Also, I know how slow this is going and I'm trying to speed it up, but I have a LOT of story to tell here, so bear with me. :) 


	9. She's Running

Running For Our Lives  
------------------------------  
  
Chapter Nine: She's Running  
  
Cordelia ignored the slightly pungent reek of cat piss and old cabbage and tried to concentrate her attentions on the grubby sleazebag that Angel was holding two feet off of the ground. She glanced around and grimaced at the crumbling walls and the shabby furniture in Faith's apartment. A whimper caught her attention she turned back to Angel.  
  
"I'm telling you, I don't know where Faith is. The little bitch is violationg parole though! And as soon as she gets back she's going back!" Rob said, red-rimmed eyes wide as Angel growled in is throat.  
  
"Does she go out a lot?" Cordelia asked, eyebrow rising as she placed a hand on Angel's shoulder.   
  
"Yeah. All the time. I watch her coming and going at all hours." Off Cordelia's look he stammered, "Uh, not that I give a shit what she does, I'm supposed to keep on eye on her, ya know?"  
  
"Right." She said, sighing and nodding her head, unconvinced. "Do you know where she goes?"  
  
"Followed her one night, just curious. I thought maybe she was hooking, but she just went to this park and sat outside this apartment building for a while. Then I thought she was dealing drugs and I was going to turn her in, but I wanted...uh...well..."  
  
"You wanted to see if she'd give you a cut, huh?" Angel said, his hands still wrapped up in Rob's stained shirt, his nostrils flaring as he tried not smell anything. Rob started to protest, but Angel cut him off again. "What was the address of the place you saw her at?"  
  
Cordelia let out a sharp intake of breath as Rob told them Wesley's address. "How long ago was that?"  
  
"About a three days ago. Why?" Rob asked, eyeing the pretty girl before him.   
  
"Shit. She's been planning this for a while. Angel, she might be looking to get even with you next. We have to---" She stopped as Angel's cell phone trilled to life. She fished it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Hello?"  
  
"Cordelia? Fred just found some activity on one of the credit cards. She bought a room at the Desert Rose Motel right outside of Hodge." Gunn's voice said in a rush. She relayed the info to Angel and he nodded, dropping Rob from his grip. The probation officer slumped against the wall and looked up at them.  
  
"She's running. Tell Gunn we're going after her." Angel's eyes blazed fire and he swept out of the shabby little room before Cordelia could respond. The Seer ran after him, speaking quickly as she went. Rob watched them go, wondering what the hell had just happened.  
  
*********************  
  
  
Wesley was driving, lantern jaw clenched as he kept his eyes glued to the road before him. His thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning.  
  
He had woken with a strand of strawberry scented hair draped across his face, his chest warmed by a solid wall of flesh resting against him. His fingers were clenched around hers and he knew she was sleeping soundly next to him on the floor. Frowning and blushing all in one big breath, he sat up a little and stared into her peaceful face. What the hell?  
  
"Faith?" He'd called, untangling his fingers from her and sweeping his fingertips along her cheek. Her eyes had fluttered open and she stared at him groggily. "Why are you on the floor?"  
  
"Bad dreams. It's warm..." Came her reply and he had smiled sleepily at the Slayer and the unguarded words. "Lay back down..." So he had done as he was told, curling up around her and keeping her warm and safe, his breath blowing softly on the back of her neck.   
  
As strange as it was, he hadn't been uncomfortable laying there wrapped around the younger girl. He smiled and wondered how bad her dreams had been for her to have crawled onto the floor with him. Not that he minded, it was just an odd tableau and the fact that he had started responding in a most...noticable way to the skin against his stomach, well he was glad she'd been asleep for that.   
  
And then, well the door had crashed open and moonlight had streamed in through the open door. Wesley had sat up and watched, eyes wide as two very obviously horny people had come stumbling in, hands and mouths everywhere. Faith had sat up too, her mouth open as she watched the two intruders fall onto the creaking bed with nary a glance in their direction.   
  
"Uh..." Wesley had started to say as the woman slipped her shirt over her head, but Faith put her hand over his mouth.   
  
"Shh...we're getting a show." She said with a smile, eyes glinting. Her words made the couple stop and look over at them, mouths open in shock. A beat and then the woman screamed her head off.  
  
In the confusion that had followed, the manager had come and there were some words exchanged and Wesley had agreed to pay for the room for fear of the police showing up. A quick, desperate search of the car had yielded two credit cards. A pang of guilt for using Angel's card and then they were on the road, driving into the sunrise.   
  
He hazarded a glance over at Faith and she was scratching at the rapidly healing wound on her arm, her nose scrunched up as she felt the stained, bloody clothing on her stomach. She looked highly disgusted at the fact that she was still dirty and bloody, something he could heartily agree with. Even though he'd washed back at the motel, he was still very aware that he was quite pungent. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but she spoke before he did.  
  
"Where are we going?"   
  
"Uh..."  
  
"You're heading into the sunrise, which, if I know my geography, isn't toward L.A. What's up?" She peered over at him, the wind sweeping a strand of red-tinted hair across her face. He sat in silence for a minute and then spoke wearily.  
  
"We're running Faith. The Five expect you to be in Los Angeles and I want to make sure you're nowhere near there."   
  
"Wes, we have to go back! You said so yourself; running is not a solution. Running is what you do when you don't have a plan!" Faith protested, eyes wide as she looked her Watcher up and down.  
  
"But I don't have a plan! There's...its all gone to hell Faith. Angel's bloody son is gone. Vanished because of me. And now you're....they're going to kill if you go back and I won't let them. I failed you before and I WILL NOT do it again. I wish I was dead." He said vehemently, pulling the car over to the side of the road. He layed his throbbing head on the steering wheel and traced the scar on his neck absently. Faith slid over to his side of the seat and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him. He was too surprised to move and he sank into her embrace as if she was taking the weight of the world off of his shoulders.   
  
"Wesley? Can I tell you something?" Her voice was so soft, he wasn't sure she had spoken. She went on before he could answer, her breath tickling his ear. "Suck it up."   
  
His shoulders went rigid and he wrenched out of her embrace, glaring at her and the way she was smiling at him, coldness gleaming in her eyes. "What?"  
  
"Suck it up, English! You fucked up but that's no reason to go all Death Wish-y! Angel's son is gone, but you didn't know that was going to happen when you found out about that prophesy or whatever. Give it up! Deal with the consequences and move the hell on. I learned that lesson a long time ago." She said, eyeing him as he glared at her. He thought a moment, the words sinking in.  
  
"You would know, wouldn't you?" He said bitterly, glaring over at her, his mouth twisting into a scornful grin. She gulped and clenched her fists in her lap, daring him to say something else. "Sorry, " He said, seeing how much he had hurt her. "This isn't going to help us."  
  
"No, its not. We'd better get running. And I don't know about you, but I need new clothes and a shower." She said, shrugging off her anger with a smile. He could sense the hurt flowing beneath the surface of those deep brown eyes and he wanted to reach out to her again. He didn't.  
  
"I agree. I'm afraid I'm beginning to smell like Cordelia's cooking. Never a good thing." He joked, glancing over at her as he eased the car back onto the road.   
  
"I'm not going to die so stop thinking I will." Faith said suddenly, eyes locked to his as he turned to her.   
  
"What?"  
  
"You think these Five--Four things are too much for me. Well they're not you know. I can handle them." She said proudly, lifting her chin and regarding him with a cool, appraising look.   
  
"Maybe. Hopefully we won't have to find out." He said, a glimmer of pride in his eyes at the strong girl before him. Faith frowned and put her feet up on the dashboard, lip poking out in a charming way that made him want to...well nevermind what he wanted to do.   
  
"You never let me have any fun." She smiled and he laughed, his thoughts distant. Wherever the remains of the Five were he wondered if they knew where Faith was. He prayed they'd already shaken them.  
  
*******************  
  
Uriah followed the black convertible from three miles away, watching them with eagle keen eyes, her booted feet flashing as she ran. She followed them, followed them all day without a rest. As the lights of Las Vegas bloomed up in front of them, the sun slid below the horizon and she put a burst of extra speed into her steps.   
  
She'd have her as soon as they entered the city. And then, the prize would be hers. Uriah smiled and ran a bit faster.  
  
******************** 


	10. Welcome to Las Vegas

Running For Our Lives  
--------------------------------  
  
  
Chapter 10: Welcome to Las Vegas  
  
"The manager said she left this morning. And she had someone with her!" Cordelia said to the heavy bundle on the seat next to her. She pulled Gunn's truck back onto the highway and turned it east, in the direction the motel clerk had seen the car go.   
  
"She was with someone? Did you get a description?" Angel's head peaked out from the folds of the tarp, his eyes squinting in the bright light, his features shadowed. If she wasn't still raw with pain and livid with anger, she'd have found the situation funny. As it was, she wasn't in the mood to laugh.  
  
"Not a very good one. The manager just said he was a guy with dark hair. Both of them were dirty. I think he thought they were homeless because they tried to steal a room. He made them pay though." She answered, rubbing her gritty eyes with her left hand.   
  
"I wonder why they didn't just knock him out..." Angel mused, his jaw clenched and his fist snaking out from beneath the blanket to touch hers. Cordelia smacked his hand away when she heard the sizzle of his flesh as the sunlight met it. "Its going to be okay."  
  
She sighed as he pulled his fist back in the blanket. "No its not. Wesley's dead and that bitch thinks she going to get away with it. She's not and when, not if, we catch her, I'm going to tear her limb from limb."   
  
"And I'll help you." He said quietly, then he noticed where they were going. "Which way?"  
  
"My guess? Vegas. It certainly fits her kind of town. And since she doesn't seem to realize we're tracking her with the credit cards, as soon as she uses them we'll head to wherever she was." Cordy replied, pressing the petal down harder; the big ugly truck shot forward and Angel nodded.  
  
It wouldn't be long now. Hopefully.  
  
  
*****************  
  
"Ahh...Las Vegas, home of drugs, money, gambling and Siegfried and Roy. My kind of town!" Faith said, stretching her limbs to the sky and smiling at the coming dusk. Wesley smiled over at her and weaved the car through the traffic on Interstate 15. The lights were nearly blinding from a mile away and he actually felt a bit excited to see the place.   
  
"I've never been here. You?" He asked, licking his dry lips and trying to avoid the smell of his dirty clothing. He sighed as the traffic stopped and the cars backed up.  
  
"Passed through once. I guess that's what we're going to do this time too, huh?" She asked, turning huge brown eyes to him imploringly.   
  
" 'Fraid so, love. We don't have the luxury of staying in one place. Those bloody bastards might find you any min--" His words were cut off as something leapt onto the hood of the car.   
  
"Enjoying your little trip?" The pink haired stranger asked, her wide mouth open in a lazy grin, one pistol pointed straight at Wesley. Faith started and, quick as lightning, the girl whipped out another gun and pointed it at her. "Ah-ah-ah Slayer. One move and he gets it."   
  
"Who are you?" Wesley asked, hand on the wheel. Behind him, traffic started to back up and horns were blaring, several people within eyesight of the car actually screamed when they caught sight of the guns in her hands.   
  
"Uriah. I believe you knew my sister." Uriah said, flipping a strand of pink hair from her eyes, revealing the crescent shaped tattoo along her eye.   
  
"The Five." Wesley said beneath his breath.   
  
"You're bright." Uriah said dryly, eyes glowing a bright, incandescent purple as she laughed at him. "So I'm going to kill you now."   
  
"I don't think so!" Faith said through gritted teeth and launched herself across the seats at Wesley. She slammed her boot on top of his foot and the car lurched forward, dislodging Uriah from her perch atop the hood. She flew forward, elbow cracking the windshield. Faith made a grab for her and pulled her into the seat beside her.   
  
Uriah went to pull one of her guns up, but Faith cracked her across the cheek with her fist and made a grab for the gun. She caught the demon's wrist and bent it upward. A shot rang off, blindingly loud as Wesley winced and ducked in the driver's seat.   
  
"You're a bad shot." Faith growled, bringing her foot up and hitting the demon in the middle, her boot leaving a big dust print on the ratty t-shirt she was wearing. Uriah laughed and fell into the backseat, her legs sprawled. Faith pointed her own gun at her and smiled. "I, however, rarely miss."  
  
"We'll see." Uriah said, hands moving faster than sound as she whipped out another gun from the folds of her tight jeans. Faith frowned. Where the hell was she keeping them at? But now was not the time for "How did she do that?" Faith kept the gun trained at the demon, her ass pressed against the top of the windshield and her feet braced against the seat. Her eyes flickered to Wesley and he read what she was going to do. A faint flicker in his eyes and he readied himself.  
  
"Now!" Faith screamed and Wesley opened the door and jumped out of the car. He hit the pavement and rolled, his hands tucked into his sides, pain flashing across his body as he rolled into the sparse grass on the side of the road. He stopped and looked breathlessly up at the car, his eyes full of the Slayer's face.  
  
Uriah growled and fired at Faith, who fired back then flipped over the windshield and landed on the hood. The car, unmanned, spun out of control and Faith clung to the hood with tooth and nail. Uriah stood up in the backseat and fired shot after shot, one shot narrowly missing Faith's left shoulder as it richoted off the hood. A glance at the road in front of her and she smiled widely, then ducked as the demon fired another round.   
  
"Fuck this." She said through her teeth and let her grip go, sliding off the side as the car headed straight for a telephone pole. Faith rolled and looked up through a mass of hair as the car careened off the road and slammed into the pole; Uriah screamed an inhuman scream as the car crumpled like an accordian.   
  
"Faith!" Wesley called her name and ran towards her, the wound on his face bleeding again as the scab had been torn off. His eyes were wide and his face was pale as a ghost. "Faith! Are you okay?" He reached her, scooping her up and wiping her hair from her eyes.   
  
"Wes! Five by five...you?" Faith said, sitting up wearily, her right shoulder screaming in pain as she realized it was wrenched out of its socket. Wesley nodded and heaved a sigh of relief, then smoothed her hair down as he glanced over at the wreckage of the car.   
  
"You think she's dead?" He asked, squinting through the billowing smoke the engine was emitting in huge black puffs. Almost as if his words were enough to call her, something moved in the wreckage.   
  
"Maybe not. Let's go before we have to find out!" Faith said, helping him to his feet and half-carrying him down the side of the road. The traffic was stopped and everyone was watching them, mouths open and faces pale. Faith ran up to the nearest car and found it was a taxi cab. She pulled Uriah's gun out and pointed it straight at the cab driver's face. "You're giving us a ride. Any problems with that?"   
  
The driver shook his head and Faith opened the door, diving inside and hauling Wesley with her. "Drive. Now." Wesley said, breath puffing out, his hand on his chest. Blood dripped into his eyes and Faith winced. The cab driver took off, weaving his way through the milled vehicles and toward Las Vegas.   
  
"Well, so much for running." She said, ripping a scrap of her dirty tank off and dabbing at the newly opened wound on his forehead. He smiled over at her and sighed. "Never was much of a plan."   
  
"Suppose not. You think she's following us?" Wesley half-turned in the seat and squinted behind them, but he couldn't see anything for the glare of the other headlights. Already he could hear the sirens of firetrucks, ambulances and police cars blending in a cacophany of sound.   
  
"If she is, she's hurt. We've got time to change and steal a new ride." Faith said, glint in her eyes hard as steel. "Sorry I got you into this."   
  
"What? No...this is fun! Really." Wesley said wryly, fingers tenderly touching her bruising shoulder. She winced and he frowned. "Hold still." With a grunt, he knocked it back into socket; she smiled over at him gratefully.  
  
"I'm glad you're here." She said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Wesley could only smile and pat her hand gingerly, the lights of Las Vegas enveloping them as the cab pulled onto the strip.   
  
"I'm glad too."   
  
**********************  
  
Lorne entered the Hyperion, a smile wide on his lips. "Hey kiddies. What's the haps?" He called to the couple behind the desk. They looked up at him with haunted eyes and he was slammed with the anger, hurt and sorrow in their auras. He didn't even need to read them to know that something was wrong. "What happened?"  
  
"Wesley's dead." Gunn said in a stony voice, his adam's apple moving up down as he swallowed back tears he wouldn't let himself cry.   
  
"What?" Lorne exclaimed, mouth dropping open. He sank into the nearest chair waited for them to tell him that they were joking.  
  
"That Slayer, Faith, killed him." Fred said, her bloodshot eyes flicking from Lorne's face to the computer screen.   
  
"What? No! I didn't read that! Faith was supposed to put Wesley back on his path!" Lorne said, green hand running through his short red hair.  
  
"What do you mean, you didn't read that? Did you know that Faith was out?" Gunn asked, approaching him like he would a rabid dog.   
  
"Yes, I knew. So did Wesley. You know that vision Cordelia had for Wesley?" Lorne said, seeing their recognition before moving on. "Well that girl was Faith. I read him and I saw that she needed him and he needed her. They...they're supposed to put each other back on their paths, not...oh brother that went all to hell."   
  
"Wes knew and he didn't tell us? Why would he keep it a secret after all that we've been through with Connor and that stupid prophecy? We could have helped him!" Fred exclaimed, her hands snaking up to her throat as she bit back tears. Gunn was too aggitated to comfort her as he glared at the Host.  
  
"You knew too. Why didn't you say anything?"   
  
"Because it was none of your business. This was his life and her life and two of them were not intertwined with yours. They're meant to be together and I just can't see how this all went down the crapper. Why would she kill him?" Lorne said vehemently, eyes blazing as he tried to think rationally through his pain.   
  
"I don't know. I never met her and from what I do know, she was a murderer before she went into prison and she just picked up the habit once she left. I guess she still blamed Wes for everything that happened to her." Gunn said, running a hand over his bald head. He felt stubble and he realized he'd have to shave it again soon.  
  
"Where's Angel and Cordelia?"   
  
"They're chasing her. They're going to...when they catch her..." Fred's drawling voice faltered and she bit her lip. Gunn put an arm around her and frowned.   
  
Lorne didn't answer him as he sat back against the chair, deep in thought. This wasn't right. Something wasn't right here and he had a good idea on where to find out the truth. He stood and turned to the couple staring at him. "I have to go somewhere. Call Angel and tell him NOT to kill her if they catch her. Something's gone wrong and I need to find out what."  
  
Fred and Gunn watched him go, eyes shadowed and hurt-filled.   
  
******************* 


	11. Creating a Monster

Running For Our Lives  
---------------------------------  
  
  
Chapter 11: Creating a Monster  
  
Uriah fell out of the car, the a slash along her ribs bleeding sluggishly. She growled, the pain making her lose her grip on her woman-shape.   
  
"Ma'am?" She looked up at the ashen faced police officer in front of her, his hands outstretched toward her. "Are you okay? An ambulance is on its way."  
  
She ignored him, pulling out one of her three remaining guns and pointed the Glock at him. "Where did they go human?" She growled as her teeth changed from human to beast, her muscles spasming as she fought to keep her shape.   
  
"I...ma'am...put the weapon down. What's...what's wrong with you?" The police officer said, his hands slowly snaking to his sidearm. He blinked rapidly as her image wavered back and forth.  
  
"What's wrong is that I have to deal with you fleshy little bastards when I'm trying to win a prize!" And with that she leveled the gun at the human and fired. The police officer fell to the ground in a shattered heap and she walked past him, jumping into his car and taking off. Using the last of her energy, she found the Slayer's power echo and honed in on it. The little bitch might have gotten away for now, but she hadn't run far enough yet.  
  
***************  
  
"Cordy? Wake up! We're almost there." Angel said, reaching over into the darkened shadows of the truck and shaking the sleeping Seer awake. She sat bolt upright and swiped at her chin with the back of her hand.   
  
"There?" She said sleepily, scooting over to his side of the seat to peer out at the Las Vegas skyline.   
"Yeah. If she's here---" Angel stopped as the phone rang. He picked it up and flipped it open. "Gunn?"  
  
"Fred." Fred corrected him in a tired voice.   
  
"Tell me you've got something."  
  
"She just got a room at the Jackpot Motel." Fred told him, her voice wavering in and out as static crackled over the connection. "But Angel...Lorne came by and he said...well he told us something."  
  
"What?" Angel said sharply, glancing over at Cordelia, who was watching him with interest. She watched as his jaw hardened and the fire, if possible, got brighter in his eyes as Fred talked. There was silence for a moment and then Angel finally spoke, his voice rough and low. "Tell Lorne I don't care. Whatever he's doing, he better stay out of my way."  
  
Cordelia's brow furrowed as he hung up the phone and stared at the road before him. "What happened? What did Lorne do?"  
  
With venom in his voice, Angel told her what Lorne had told Fred and Gunn. Her mouth dropped open in shock. "What the hell was Wesley thinking? He knows--knew-- how dangerous Faith is. That dumbass! And Lorne! You'd think he'd be able to sense things like that. What's he going to do?"  
  
"Fred didn't know. But she said he only told her that we shouldn't kill Faith." Angel said, glaring at the bright lights of Las Vegas.  
  
"Screw that. Let his anagogic ass take the moral high road. We're getting her. Tonight." Cordelia spat, fist slamming into the dashboard. Angel glanced sharply over at her, wondering when she'd gotten so...hard. :Right about the time I went all psycho probably.: Angel thought, turning his attention back to the road.   
  
***************************  
  
This time they paid for the room, at Wesley's insistence. The Jackpot Motel was all glits and no taste, but neither of them cared. Wesley's head pounded though, as the nightclub across the street kept its music loud and full of bass. Faith hit the shower first while Wesley went for dinner, knowing they'd both been without food since the night before. It seemed so long ago that Wesley's head nearly spun as he thought about it.   
  
Walking back upstairs, a Taco Belle bag clutched in his hands, he suddenly had a brilliant thought. He ran downstairs, he entered the little laundrymat and opened one of the many dryers. He pulled the laundry out and glanced around, but of the three people in the room, no one was watching him. He carried his fluffy armload back upstairs and dumped it on the bed just as Faith stepped out of the bathroom, the scratchy, complimentary bathrobe wrapped around her snuggly.   
  
"What the hell did you do?" Faith asked, laughing in her throat as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers picking through the assorted pile of clothing before her.   
  
"I went shopping. What?" He asked off her look, his mouth widening in an impish grin.   
  
"I've created a monster..." She said in wonder as she pulled out a pair of clean panties and a bra that wasn't sticky with blood, of which she was thankful. Further rifling found a pair of jeans and t-shirt with Bob Marley on it. Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head. "Who are these people and do they know you're supposed to separate your laundry?"  
  
"Apparently not." Wesley said, pulling out another pair of jeans and a wifebeater. "These are serviceable."  
  
"Serviceable? You're so English." She laughed, one black eye sparkling mischievously. He stuck his tongue out at her in a very-unstuffy manner and disapeared into the bathroom with his new clothing.   
  
Faith seized the food bag and dug into the first chalupa she found. She turned her head at the sound of the shower coming on and smiled. She thought about the last time they'd showered together...well not together, together, but together. Faith smacked her forehead and demanded her brain to stop its limp little circle of thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking those things. Especially not about Wesley....but...why not?  
  
"I'm just horny from the fight. That's all." She muttered, finishing off her food and and crumbling her paper into a ball. She chucked it back into the bag and stood, letting the robe slide off her shoulders. She reached for the stolen panties and stopped when her eyes met Wesley's across the room.   
  
"Uh...sorry..." He stammered, retreating back into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.   
Faith stared at the closed door, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she pulled the bathrobe back over her bare breasts. Her heart thumped in her chest as she thought about what her Watcher had just seen. If she was uncomfortable before...well that was just the icing on the cake. She sat back down, legs drawn up, and waited for him to reappear.   
  
Wesley leaned against the door, water dripping down his face. He blinked a droplet away from his thick black eyelashes and forced his breath to stop coming in little puffs. Naked Faith...naked Faith...he'd seen naked Faith. Faith naked. He couldn't get his mind wrapped around anything else and he took a deep, calming breath.   
  
A calming breath that didn't calm anything.   
  
He stayed there a few moments and then hesitantly cracked the door open and peered out into the room beyond. Faith smiled back at him from the chair, the bathrobe firmly back in place, her bruised lips stretched wide. He opened the door all the way and stepped out of the steamy bathroom.  
  
"Hi." Faith said, running a finger through her damp hair. "You done in there Chief?  
  
"Uh...yeah. Yes. Done." He said, sidestepping her as she pushed past him, her clothing in hand. She poked him in the stomach with the tip of her finger as she went by and smiled widely.   
  
"Don't worry Watcher-boy. I'll get my turn." She said cryptically before she shut the door. He sighed heavily and collapsed on the edge of the bed, wondering what the hell had just happened. And what did she mean by her turn? Wesley shook his weary head and reached for the food bag.   
"The world may never know." He muttered and took a bite, secretly wishing he had just a touch of Superman's powers as he stared at the bathroom door. He cursed and figured the wooden door must have been lined with lead.  
  
****************  
  
"That's my car!" Angel exclaimed as they passed the wreckage. Cordelia put her hand over his mouth and peered out into the lighted scene.   
  
"What is that?" She asked in a hushed voice as she noticed a white sheet slowly staining with blood where it rested against something very dead. Police officers milled around the scene and several bystanders gaped with open mouths.   
  
"I don't know. Lets find out." Angel said, pulling Gunn's truck to a halt beside one of the bystander's. "What happened?"   
  
The fat, balding man started and turned to face him, his face pale and slightly green. "Police officer got wasted by some gun-wielding psycho." He answered, walking over the truck.   
  
"And the car?" Angel asked, glancing back at Cordelia. She frowned and turned her attention to the man.  
  
"Oh, hell I saw that myself. Almost got hit by a stray bullet, but my windshield caught it instead." He said, gesturing to the semi on the side of the road with a large crack in it. "Two women were fighting and they fired some shots and then the car crashed. There was a guy too, but he jumped out before they hit the pole."  
  
"The women? Where did they go?" Cordelia piped up, hand clenched on Angel's arm.  
  
"The one jumped off before the car hit the pole. Her and that guy scattered. Don't know where they went. The other one's the one that shot that cop." The guy said, looking back at the scene with a weathered eye.   
  
"Thank you sir." Cordelia said and the man nodded at her.   
  
"You're welcome. Better go and give 'em my statement so I get home. You take care." He said amiably and then took off back toward the scene.   
  
"Faith?" Cordelia asked him with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Faith." Angel agreed, steering the car around the crime scene. He pointed the truck toward the city. "I wonder who the other woman was."  
  
"If she was trying to kill Faith, then she's probably a good guy." Cordelia answered bitterly, her knuckles white as she held on to him.  
  
"You're probably right. Maybe if we meet her we can team up."   
  
"Maybe."  
  
********************* 


	12. Shadows to the Wall

Running For Our Lives  
----------------------------------  
  
Chapter 12: Shadows to the Wall  
  
Uriah's breath flagged and she had to stop, centering herself before she could hone in on the Slayer's power echo. That bit of majick nearly drained her and she had to let go of her woman-shape to do so. Two blocks away, the Slayer's power pulsed and throbbed like a heartbeat.   
  
With her demon side fully exposed, she felt stronger and the speed she'd indulged in earlier was back. Quick strides and she was in front of the glittery motel the Slayer was hiding out in. Gathering her muscles, she lunged to the second floor and scampered onto the balcony in front of the Slayer's room.   
  
**************  
  
"Shh..." Faith said as she stepped out of the bathroom fully clothed. Wesley stopped what he was doing and looked her up down, wondering what she was listening for.   
  
"What?"  
  
"There's something there...." She said, crossing the room and sliding the curtain that lay across the window to the side. "Well if it isn't our little party crasher."   
  
Uriah smiled smugly at them through the glass, her black lips dripping with thick saliva, her purple eyes glowing in the midnight darkness. "Slayer." The demon said, her body sliding back into human form. Wesley recognized the pink hair and his breath caught in his throat as the sliced hands had a gun leveled at Faith.   
  
"That's me. Are you going to use that thing, or what?" She asked nonchalantly, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared through the glass at the Sister.   
  
A beat and then there was an explosion of power. The glass shattered inward as Uriah changed back into her demon form, the gun going off at the same time. Faith ducked the shot and rolled, hooking Wesley's legs with her own and pulling him down to the floor.   
  
"Get us a car! Meet me in back of that nightclub across the street!" She screamed in his ear as she rolled by.   
  
"Come back to me!" Wesley whispered to her; her gaze met his for a moment and she smiled, then nodded. He got up and crawled out of the front door, past the crouching, scaly demon, who had her eyes on Faith. He looked over his shoulder as he ran down the stairs, but her attention had turned back to the Sister, her eyes hard and her fists harder.   
  
"You going to bring it on, or what?" Faith asked, the scaly, purple-eyed demon in front of her. Uriah threw the gun down and smiled an impossibly sharp smile. "So, you got teeth where your sister didn't, eh? Big damned deal."  
  
Uriah snarled and launched herself at Faith; Faith swung her leg out, roundhousing her onto the bed. Uriah rolled off it and hit the wall, lauching off of it with her powerful back legs. She landed smoothly on her feet and swiped at Faith. The Slayer jerked out of the way of her razor sharp claws and grabbed for the tall floor lamp, jabbing the end of it at the demon.   
  
She knocked it out of Faith's hands and the Slayer grunted as her fingers stung from the blow. She threw a punch at Uriah and her fist cracked across the demon's scaly brow. Another kick followed and yet another punch, but the demon countered, knocking Faith backward through the shattered window.   
  
Faith landed on the balcony outside and skittered across the pavement a few steps before her head slammed against the wrought-iron railing. She bit down on her tongue and tasted coppery blood; she spat it out and her fists rose in defense as the Sister jumped at her. One strong kick of her foot and the demon flew over the railing, landing on the hood of a car below them.   
  
Faith leapt to her feet and jumped down after her, booted feet landing solidly on the roof of the car. "This is fun, ain't it?" She asked with a sneer, reaching for the demon's throat.   
  
Uriah shifted back into her woman-shape, making her a smaller target. Faith missed her and Uriah kicked out her leg, knocking the Slayer off the roof of the car and onto the dry, cracked pavement of the parking lot.   
  
Faith hit the ground and rolled, coming up on her feet and whirling, sensing the blow that was about to come. Her foot connected with the demon's hand and she heard a muffled cry as something snapped. She looked back over her shoulder at the glinting metal of a gun as it arched in the air and skittered across the parking lot.   
  
"Lose your toy?"   
  
"Got another." Uriah said, her human lips smiling despite the blood flowing from her teeth. She pulled another gun from the folds of her ripped clothing and pointed it at Faith. She had just enough warning to duck behind the ruined car before she fired.   
  
Faith drew out the gun she'd taken from the demon earlier from its nest in the back of her boot, forgotten until now. She checked the clip and and then rolled out from behind the bullet-riddled car and fired as she went. A lucky shot caught Uriah in the shoulder and the demon went down.   
Faith took that moment to leap up and run as fast as she could, hearing a shot fired at her heels and grazing her own shoulder. She winced and kept going, dodging the cars that were milled in the street and heading for the nightclub.   
  
She searched frantically for Wesley, but she didn't see him. She hazarded a glance behind her saw Uriah struggling to her feet. "Shit. Where are you Wes?" She hissed as she ducked into the nightclub, pushing past a group of ravers.   
  
If the music was loud from outside, it was deafening in here and she was hit with waves of sound and bodies. Everywhere ravers dressed in brightly colored outfits waved glowsticks and danced out of sync to the beat. She rolled her eyes and went for the back exit, hoping to find an alleyway out of there. She hoped to whatever God was listening that Wesley was out there.  
  
*****************  
  
Uriah was losing and she knew it. But still didn't mean she was giving up. Right shoulder uselessly hanging at her side, she used the only bit of power she had left to change back into her woman-shape. She watched the Slayer disappear into the crowded nightclub and knew she'd never have a chance of finding her if she looked like a demon. That meant she couldn't track her using her power echo. But some things couldn't be helped.  
  
She crossed the street, hand pressed to the wound on her shoulder. She entered the club, her gun tucked in the folds of her shirt. Three shots left and it'd be useless. Three shots was all she needed.   
  
*****************  
  
Faith peered into the darkness and found the back door, pushing a spikey-haired raver out of the way as she opened it. He screamed something at her, but she ignored him and entered the...crowded alleyway.   
  
"Fuck! Damned ravers!" She cursed under her breath at the milling party goers making out in the "secluded" alleyway. She searched through crowd for some signs of Wes, but she didn't see him. But she did catch a familiar head of bright pink hair, burning violet eyes sweeping the crowd for her.   
  
Faith started and ducked behind a tall guy dressed in leather, cutting off the stream of obscenities that spilled from her mouth. Uriah's burning eyes got closer and she looked for some escape route, desperation making her heart beat a million times a minute. And then, something grabbed her, pulling her back into a sheltered, heavily shadowed alcove under the catwalk that ran the side of the building.   
  
"Shh..." Wesley's voice hissed in her ear and she relaxed in his arms. Wesley turned her, his arms still about her shoulders.   
  
And suddenly, Uriah's blazing violet eyes shined into the darkness and Faith grabbed Wesley, her lips reaching for his. He was too surprised to move as she pushed him against the wall, her lips crushed to his. A second later, he responded, kissing her back fervently, his hands running back through her hair and turning her to the wall, so that the demon couldn't see her face.   
  
Uriah smelled the sexual smell of the alcove and caught the glimpse of the two humans crushed against each other, just shadows to the wall, and her eyes slid over them. Not who she was looking for and she kept moving.   
  
Faith watched her go out of the corner of her eye, half her mind on the hunt and the other half on the man pressed against her. She kissed him hard, that half of her mind fully reveling in the fact that her stuffy Watcher was a hell of a good kisser and he knew what to do with his tongue. A moment later though, he pulled back and let her go, leaving her feeling a bit...frustrated that the moment was over so soon.   
  
"She's gone." He said breathlessly, running a hand trembling hand through his hair as he tried to avoid eye contact. She frowned and nodded, her hand raising to her lips to feel the moistness he had left behind. "We'd better follow her."  
  
"Right." Faith said, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him out of the shadows and back into the throng of ravers. Across the crowd, she spotted Uriah disappear around a corner and she followed, Wesley a step behind.   
  
They rounded the corner and Faith ducked, knowing the blow was coming before it was given. Wesley followed up behind her and short punched the demon in the face, knocking her down onto the dirty ground.   
  
"You're like a cockroach!" Faith exclaimed, stepping into the alley and glaring down at her. Uriah's hand snaked to her shirt, shoulder protesting as she moved. Quick as lightning, the gun was brought out.   
  
"Three bullets. One more than I need." Uriah spat, her form shifting once more. She fired before they could move, catching Faith on the shoulder once more. Blood sprang from the flesh wound and Faith smirked down at her.  
  
"I said you were a lousy shot."  
  
"Warning shot." Uriah said, levelling the gun at Wes. Faith saw what she planned on doing and she dived at her, wrestling the gun from the downed demon. Another shot rang off and Wesley ducked as it richoted off the brick walls.   
  
"Wes!" Faith called, tossing the stolen gun at him. He caught it and kneeled, pressing the end of the pistol under Uriah's chin. Her form wavered once more and the true demon stared back at him.   
  
"Where are your other sisters?" He asked in a cold voice, the cold metal pressed hard to her throat.   
  
"I won't tell you. Kill me." She spat, staring at them with pure hatred in her demonic eyes.  
  
"Gladly." Wesley said, a macabre smile stretching over his features. He pulled the trigger and winced as they were both splattered with demony bits.   
  
"Nice shot." Faith remarked, letting the dead demon fall to the ground in a pulpy mess. "You think this one's dead?"  
  
"I'm fairly sure she is. Not even a demon can survive getting their head blown off. I don't think." He said with a tilted head, appraising the bloody mess on the pavement before him.   
  
"I think we should motor."   
  
"I agree."   
  
"Did you get us a ride?" She asked, pulling him out of the alley as he threw the gun down at Uriah's lifeless feet.  
  
"Yes." He answered with a grin. "You're a bad influence on me, you know that?"   
  
"Good; I'll make a bad boy of you yet." She said with a smile, sticking to the shadows against the wall. He chuckled and slunk alongside her.   
  
"Perhaps, love. Perhaps."   
  
******************  
  
"I'm sorry Lorne, but I don't know what to tell you. I cannot read you and find out someone else's path." Aggie said, pushing chocolate brown braids from her face.   
  
"But I have to know what went wrong. I was so sure!" Lorne pleaded, his red eyes intense as he stared at his friend. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of coffee.   
  
"Things aren't always set in stone. You used to know that better than anyone Lorne. You've gotten attached to these people haven't you?" Aggie said through slitted eyes, her smooth jaw set.  
  
"Yes I have. They've been through a lot Aggie and this is going to kill them. I just don't...Wesley can't be dead. Faith wasn't supposed to do anything to him." He kicked Aggie's fern off its perch and scowled at the scattered dirt.   
  
"Tell you what. I know someone who can help you out. He does soul-finding; I send all my clients to him if they're looking for a lost loved one. Works everytime. He'll find your rogue Slayer for you." Aggie said as she fished into her desk and pulled out a card. He took it and thanked her with all his heart.  
  
"Sorry about your fern." He called over his shoulder as he left.   
  
****************** 


	13. Alive?

Running For Our Lives  
-------------------------------  
  
Chapter 13: Alive?  
  
Detective Carter was a busy man. Far too busy to babysit some crime scene down on the northside. But here he was, steaming hot mug of coffee pressed into his palm, licking foam from his heavy mustache and scowling at the charred remains of the apartment building. Yellow police tape caught the streetlight, flashing in his eyes and reminding him that someone had died here last night.   
  
Thankfully, only one fatality though; the rest of the inhabitants of the building had been burned and hit with debris, but otherwise fine, which was a miracle. The only body they'd found was down at the Coroner's Office, waiting to be identified. Carter already had a good idea who the body belonged to, but he needed confirmation.   
  
A stray puff of acrid smoke wafted in his direction and his eyes teared. Whoever this Wyndham-Pryce had been, he must have had one powerful enemy. His stomach churned as he caught the scent of burnt flesh that was still clinging to the air and permeating the area. He took another sip of his coffee and watched his fellow officers scurrying around like ants, picking carefully through the debris and looking for evidence.   
  
"Carter?" He turned at the sound of his name and scowled when he saw Janssen standing at his elbow, fresh face pale in the darkness.   
  
"Yeah?" He asked in his gruff voice, setting his styrofoam cup down on the hood of his car.   
  
"Its the Coroner. He says you better come down there quick." Janssen said, light blue eyes puzzled as he handed the cell phone over to him.  
  
"Tony?"   
  
"Carter! There's something you have to see. That body you brought in last night...its...you just have to come. See you in a few." With that Tony hung up and he flipped the phone shut.   
  
"Janssen, I gotta go. Try not to fuck things up while I'm gone." He tossed the phone back at the rookie and jumped into his unmarked car. As he pulled away from the curb, forgotten cup of coffee spilling all over the hood, he muttered, "Tony, this had better be good."   
  
**********************  
  
"Gone." Angel said, kicking at the clothes-strewn bed and growling, his face shifting into vamp mode. Cordelia clenched her hands into fists at her side and felt like screaming. How the hell had she gotten away? Again!  
  
"This is re-goddamn-diculous. How do we beat the shit of her if she isn't even here?" She spat, wanting to do nothing more than rip out a certain Slayer's hair, strand by strand. Angel looked at her sharply again, that half-scared, half-worried look in his eyes again.  
  
"Cordy." He whispered before he wrapped her up in his arms, like he could keep the world at bay with his muscle against hers. She was ridged with pain and anger, her eyes hooded. What was happening to her? "I think...we need to stop and think for a moment."  
  
"Think about what? All I can imagine is that little bi--" He interrupted her, pulling away from her and staring into the deadly glint of her eyes.   
  
"Talk about that right there. I want to get Faith as badly as you do....but...I'm beginning to rethink this "kill her dead" thing."  
  
"Why? Its the only humane thing to do. Put her down like a rapid dog and the world is safe from her again." Cordelia pulled out of his grip and her shoulders shook with the force of her emotions.  
  
"When did you get so much hatred in you?" The words stung like bees against the fabric of her heart.   
  
"When I left you and everything went to hell." She whispered back softly, wrapping her arms around her middle and feeling that old, familiar gut-wrenching ache of guilt. Now it was coming out.   
  
"You didn't...its not your fault. Wesley---" He stammered, his hands descending on her shoulders and sending sparks dancing across her flesh. Damnit. Not now.   
  
"Wesley only played a part in what happened. The blame can't all rest on him. I wasn't there to kick you all in the ass and to....I just should have been there. For you."   
  
"I don't blame you. I know you had...you needed to be with Groo." He turned her to face him, fingertips sweeping across her forehead to wipe away the strand of streaked hair that fallen across her skin. There was hurt, understanding and something else in his eyes that she didn't quite grasp the meaning of yet. But she was beginning to.   
  
"But I didn't need to be with him. I needed to be with you....and the others. I'm sorry." She wanted to tell him what she had been thinking for the past month, thinking about him and guilt she'd been building up in her system. Guilt that was slowly turning to red-hot anger.   
  
"No apologies." He layed a feather-soft kiss against her forehead, eyes softened and hands surprisingly warm against her shoulders. "We've got too much going on in our lives to dwell on the little things. Right now we need to find Faith. And you need to calm down. We'll find her."  
  
"I am calm." She muttered, feeling the anger ebb slightly. He was right. She was covering her hurts with anger; not that she was pissed beyond recall at the rogue Slayer for taking one of the only people in her life that mattered. She still wanted her dead for what she'd done.  
  
"No you're....." Angel's voice trailed off and his head snapped up, nostrils flaring open and his eyes rolling around in their sockets.   
  
"What? You pick up something?" Cordy whispered, looking around the room as if she could see the errant scent he'd picked up. A growl escaped his lips and he fisted his hands to his sides.   
  
His gaze turned to her and she felt a tendril of fear curl up her spine.   
  
"Wesley's alive."   
  
**************************  
  
Lorne, footsore and parched from his long walk, stopped and checked the address on the card Aggie had given him. He would have gotten a ride if the cabbie's hadn't had a predjudice toward green people. Why can't we all just get along? He dismised the thought and looked up at the unassuming cottage before him. Here he was, standing outside Stan Evan's House of Lost Souls with all his hopes riding on his shoulders. A knock on the door and he was beckoned in by a withered hand.   
  
"Aggie sent me." He whispered to the short, gray-haired man before him. If his appearance was alarming to him, it didn't register. Lorne followed him through the house, eyes glued to the back of Stan Evan's head.  
  
"Sit." Stan croaked, sitting down at a little round table. Lorne did as he was told, sitting down across from the soul-finder, his curiosity eating him alive. "Who?"  
  
Lorne told him who he wanted to find, his knuckles turning pink as he clenched them on the arms of the chair. A crystal in the center of the table rose up off the surface and floated before him as he watched.  
  
Stan shook his head and nodded several times, his eyes going blank and pupiless as his frail body vibrated with power. "Watch the crystal." Stan croaked, his voice a million miles away.  
  
Lorne did as he was told, peering into the imperfect prism of the crystal until he could see the flickering image inside. The ends of his hair crackled with energy as the soul-finder worked his majick.   
  
"The Slayer is leaving Las Vegas, heading east along Interstate 15." Stan said, and with his words came a picture of the dark haired girl, her face wreathed in a smile. Lorne felt red-hot anger curling through him as he watched her smile, obviously oblivious to what she'd done and the hurt she'd caused.   
  
"The man you think is dead is with her." Stan said suddenly, his voice catching. Lorne's mouth fell open and his gaze was captured by the floating crystal. Wesley's face stared back him, smile wide as he sat behind the wheel of a car.   
  
"How?" Lorne whispered, turning his gaze from the crystal to Stan's whizened face. The mage collapsed, his energy spiraling back into his body and the crystal dimming as it settled back onto the table. Stan looked up at him with milky eyes.   
  
"I do not know. I only find. Payment." He held out his hand and Lorne pulled out his wallet. Minutes later Lorne was outside, his cell phone in his hand.   
  
"Fred?" He asked as someone picked up on the other side.   
  
"Gunn." He corrected, his voice strange and dreamlike. "What is it?"  
  
"I...Gunn..Wesley's not dead." Silence and then a choked reply.  
  
"I know."  
  
******************** 


	14. Threes

Running For Our Lives  
---------------------------  
  
Chapter 14: Threes  
  
Carter had to give Tony credit, it had been good. And disturbing. So disturbing he had felt that he needed answers to the multitude of questions that arisen during his brief visit to the Coroner's Office. And there was only one place he was going to get them at.   
  
Angel Investigations, run from the lobby of an old hotel, was impressive. At least Detective Carter thought it was as he had walked up the plant lined walkway and entered through the double doors. Soft greens and dark reds and yellows made the place seem cozy despite its size and he'd looked around, throughly impressed. Peering into the darknened corners, he'd caught the site of head of brown hair resting on a desk.  
  
"Ma'am?" He'd called, approaching the front desk and peering down at the sleeping young woman, her face resting against the keyboard of a black laptop. Shadows were thick under her eyes and he felt a pang of sympathy for her; she looked like hell. Which meant she'd probably known what happened to her boss. "Ma'am?"  
  
He'd stepped behind the desk and reached out a hand to touch the sleeping girl, but a strong black hand grabbed his wrist and tore him away from her. He'd looked up into the bloodshot eyes of a tall, bald black man and winced as pressure was put on his wrist.  
  
"Don't touch her." Was all the man choked out, his voice gravel and glass. "Who are you?"   
  
The girl's head had risen off the desk at the sound of his voice, her big brown eyes blinking rapidly in the dim light. "Charles? What's going on?"   
  
"Detective Carter, LAPD." He'd said, reaching for his badge and flipping it open so the taller man could see it. Recognition, but still he wouldn't let go of his wrist.   
  
"What do you want?"   
  
"I need to ask you some questions about a Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. He was employed here, was he not?" Carter had squeezed out, wondering what the hell he'd been thinking not coming with backup when the two in front of him looked ready to kill at a moment's notice.   
  
"He was. He's....dead." The girl said, lilting, drawling voice soft but steady.   
  
"His apartment building was blown up and we found something in the wreckage. We were hoping you'd be able to shed some light on the investigation." He'd said, finally wrenching his wrist from the black man's grip.   
  
The girl's brow had furrowed slightly and she glanced over at the flickering computer screen and then back up at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
"The body we found at the scene in Mr. Wyndham-Pryce's residence wasn't Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. The Coroner said it was female by looking at the pelvic bones. I was wondering if you could tell me who it might be and where Mr. Wyndham-Pryce is." He knew his words were going to get a mixed reaction, but he didn't expect the question she asked.  
  
"What do you mean a female? You mean Wesley isn't dead?" The girl had captured that piece of information, shadowed eyes sparkling as she reached for the black man's hand.   
  
"I take it you don't know where Mr. Wyndham-Pryce is then?"   
  
"No. We thought...well....do you know who the female is?" The black man had asked, jaw tightening as his mind moved in circles. Carter could see hope mixed with the same questions he had. Only Carter knew the whole story and this young man didn't. He didn't know that the body was....disformed. No mouth whatsoever and the DNA, while not fully tested, was abnormal. But he wouldn't tell them that.  
  
"No. And we're having trouble identifying her." He'd said in an offhand manner. He obviously wasn't going to get any answers from these two; at least not the answers to the questions he'd wanted answered. "Well, call this number if you hear from Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. I want to talk to him."   
  
And with that he'd handed them his card and walked out. Now here he was, driving back to the Precinct, far more on his mind than he liked. He had a feeling that if Mr. Wyndham-Pryce didn't show up, this was going to go into the unsolved cases files, along with a lot of the crimes he'd been head detective on lately. L.A. was a strange town; it had just gotten stranger.   
  
************  
  
Gunn hung up the phone and looked over at Fred, her pinched, pale face holding a smile for the first time in days. He knew she was happy and he didn't begrudge her that feeling, but he couldn't -quite- celebrate yet. There were still too many questions to answer.   
  
"Lorne says he's alive too." Gunn told her shortly, rubbing his chin wearily. "And Cordelia. They say deaths come in three's...but I never heard of lives doing the same."   
  
"Did you tell her where Lorne said they were heading?" Fred asked him, her gaze going back to the computer screen. She looked like a cat just waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting mouse in the corner as she refreshed the screen, hoping to see some activity on Angel's credit card.   
  
"Yeah. They're leaving Vegas now."   
  
"Charles, do you think he's okay?" Fred asked, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.   
  
"Honestly, I don't know. He's alive, but he hasn't contacted us, knowing damn well that we'd know his building blew up. What's his game?"  
  
"Maybe he doesn't know about the explosion. Maybe Faith kidnapped him and she's torturing him to death slowly and he's just waiting for us to come rescue him! And we're just sitting here!!" Fred's pitch got higher and higher as she let her imagination run wild, her eyes bulging like a fat frog's.  
  
"Calm down baby!" Gunn said, kissing her forehead before settling back down in his chair. She sighed and her shoulders relaxed a bit, but her eyes still held that worried glint. "And we're not just sitting here, we're helping. Well...you're helping; I'm just a backseat surfer."  
  
"Oh Charles..." Her voice petered out as she leaned her head against his arm, fingers clasped around the mouse.   
  
"Besides," Gunn said, striking on an idea, his brow furrowed as he thought. "If Wesley was in trouble, wouldn't the PTB want Angel to help his friend? Cordelia would have had a vision of it, wouldn't she?"  
  
"Maybe." Fred muttered, curling a hand against the soft cotton of his shirt. "So what do we do now?"  
  
"We do what we've been doing." Gunn answered, motioning to the computer screen again. "We wait."   
  
*****************  
  
The Next Day  
  
Saris took a sip of champagne, her long legs stretched out as she tried to clear her head of the death-energy her sister's passing had induced. Another one dead. Three left. And since the crescent moon tattoo on the side of her face was burning like a brand, she knew she was activated; which meant she was the closest to the Slayer.   
  
Belatedly she wondered where her two remaining sisters were and smiled. Knowing Orin and Lian, they were hundreds of miles from her and still struggling to think of a plan of action. At least Orin would be; Lian was another story. Not even Saris could match her lightning quick mind.   
  
With a sigh, her thoughts turned to Mateo and the recently deceased Uriah. Uriah she'd expected failure from; too hot-headed for her own good and too attached to the human shell and its weapons of metal she like to use. Mateo though, that had been a surprise to her. Mateo was usually the last to fall in a fight; and the last of the sisters she'd expected to succumb to death.   
  
So now it was her turn and she knew she would not fail where her sisters had. She closed her milky eyes and felt power surging through her, emotion swirling around her and lifting the mental recesses of her mind to new heights as she caught tendrils of feeling from all around her. With a gut-wrenching jerk, she centered on her target's emotions, feeling her empathic gifts stretch like a rubberband until it snapped and she was locked on the Slayer.   
  
Power coursed through her and she fed off the raw emotion the Slayer fed her through the line. And with the emotions came images. Saris smiled and looked through the girl's eyes at the man behind the wheel of the vehicle. Emotion surged, spiked, as the Slayer looked at him.   
  
Saris smiled. She'd found a weakness. Slowly, she disengaged herself from the Slayer's mind, but kept the empathic link intact. A tap on the window of the limo with her spiked heel and the window rolled down.  
  
"Yes Misteress?" Elliot asked in his deep, rumbling voice, eyes gazing at her from the rearview mirror.   
  
"Turn the car around. We're heading southeast now. Toward the Grand Canyon I believe." She said in her tinkling bell voice and watched as Elliot's eyes hungered for the glimpses he caught of her through the mirror.   
  
"Yes Mistress." He said in a monotone voice. "Is there anything I can do for you?" She ignored him and rolled the window up, leaning back against the plush cushions of the limousine. Three left and she was sure that Orin and Lian wouldn't have a chance at the prize.   
  
Arrogance was an emotion she knew all too well.   
  
********************  
  
It was too damned hot in here. Her skin itched with sweat and she shifted position on the leather seat, realizing her back was sticking to it. An unpleasant squelching sound made her stop in mid-motion, a blush coloring her already flushed cheeks. Wesley glanced over at her, his eyes slightly amused.   
  
"Shut up." She said crankily and settled back down on the seat, one bare foot flung out the window, where dry air was rushing over her skin. She felt little pinpricks that were barely registered as windborn sand hit along her foot. It tickled a bit. "I'm hot."  
  
Wesley looked over at her, his tongue flicking out to lick away the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip, his eyes roving over her sprawled form. Yes, she was.   
  
"Sorry love. No helping that."   
  
"You couldn't have stolen a car with a working air-conditioner? " She spat, clawed fingers dragging through her tangled mass of hair, little frizzed curls laying along her cheek as she fanned herself with her other hand. She looked around at the Chevy Malibu he'd stolen, a little bit impressed, but annoyed at the lack of a/c.   
  
"There really wasn't time to check each car individually." He said, glancing down at the gas guage and sighing. At least it had been on full when he'd stolen it and it wasn't a gas guzzler like the new SUV Justine had stolen from him. His hand lifted to his throat and he rubbed the sweaty, puckered scar.   
  
"Does it hurt?" Faith asked unexpectedly, turning chocolate-brown eyes to him, her fingers resting on his thigh. He felt the heat of her fingers through the fabric of his jeans and he mentally shooed her away. It was too hot to touch and yet that's all he wanted her to do to him.   
  
"Not really." Was all he said and then he fell silent, his eyes turned inward as his thoughts seized him and took him places she couldn't go. But she was there, resting nestled in his thoughts, laughing and pushing against his mental walls.   
  
Her fingers were still on his thigh and they burned like fire, fire that leaked up his thigh to his crotch and tingled through his gut. He briefly recalled the way they'd slept last night and half the morning through at the rest stop just past the Arizona stateline. Her in the back, him in the front. He still had a bump on his head from the steering wheel.   
  
He shifted slightly, dislodging her hand. Faith's eyes flickered a bit and she stared back at the road, her own thoughts making themselves known. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she thought about the way they'd slept together after her nightmare; the memory of it was still cozy and warm in her mind.  
  
The dream had been a bad one, filled with Buffy's flashing smile and Angel's dark eyes. They hurt her over and over again with just a smile and she shrank away from them. There was no one there to save her and she knew she couldn't save herself. And then, like a shot in the dark, she saw Wesley's piercing blue eyes and his warm, soft hands reaching for her.   
  
She'd woken with a start and rolled over to peer down at his sleeping form. Before she'd known she was moving, she'd curled up against him like a cat and draped his arm protectively over her own. He'd been so warm and like a wall of protection against the world. What he'd thought when he'd woken up was still a mystery, although she'd felt something hard and supple against her leg and wondered if he'd known she was still awake for that.   
  
She wasn't going to say anything.   
  
Now here she was, sweating and wishing she was sweating even harder. It had been too long for her and she was just reaching out to the only male around, wasn't she? Rationalizing had never been her strong point and she decided to go with the flow. Whatever was making her feel this....stomach tingling sensation when her skin brushed his was okay with her.   
  
"Map check?" Wesley broke the tention, his voice a lot cheerier than was strictly necessary. She picked up the Rand McNally book from the floorboard and flipped through the pages to Arizona.   
  
"Okay...we turned off of 15 awhile back....those should be the Hurricane Mountains....and that is the Diamond Butt." She said, peering down at the map and tracing the little gray line with her pinky. She looked back up at the peak directing in front of them.  
  
"Butte." He corrected, a grin stretching across his lips.  
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Butte. Its pronounced Butte, not butt."   
  
"Oh." She said, putting the map back down on the floor. "Well anyway...the Grand Canyon is up ahead. You ever seen it?"  
  
"No." He answered crisply, wondering when this had turned into a family vacation and why the girl was smiling like she'd never been anywhere in her life. "How're the graze wounds?"  
  
She frowned and pulled up the sleeve of her shirt to show him the identical graze wounds on her shoulder, one right above the other. Both weren't any deeper than the already healing sword wound she'd recieved from Mateo on her other arm. "Got lucky." She shrugged and pulled her sleeves back up, enjoying the way his eyes trailed hungrily over the mound of her breasts.  
  
"Wish I could heal like you. My face still aches from the explosion." He tenderly lifted his hand to his face and pressed his thumb against the tender muscles. Maybe he'd get another scar there. Great.  
  
"Wish I could give you some of what I got..." Her voice trailed off as she realized how that had sounded. "Some of my power....uh...pretty day isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, pretty day." He echoed, tearing his eyes away from the body draped across the seat next to him. It was going to be a long day. And an even longer night.  
  
****************** 


	15. Interesting

Running For Our Lives  
-----------------------------  
  
Chapter 15: Interesting  
  
Jesus it was sweltering outside. Cordelia cranked the air-conditioner higher and felt the cold rush of air against her cheeks. Despite that, she was still burning up; she couldn't imagine what Angel must have been feeling beneath his blanket on the floorboard.   
  
She reached over and peaked below the folds that resembled a head. She smiled softly as Angel's sleeping face peered out at her, not even a drop of sweat to betray that he was uncomfortable. A gentle swipe against his cheek with her palm only told her he was at room temperature. She envied him right then and there. With a sigh, she pulled the blanket tight around him and turned her attention back on the road before her.   
  
"Wes, Wes....where are you at?" Worry had replaced the anger she'd indulged in and now she could only think of the ways that things had gone wrong. Faith must have been holding him against his will, torturing him as she ran as far away from Los Angeles as possible.   
  
Except...Angel hadn't smelled anything that would have suggested she was hurting him. No, he'd smelled Wesley, whole and healthy, his scent all over the room, suggesting he hadn't been tied up. So what was the answer here? Why was Wesley with Faith and why hadn't he called them to tell them he was okay?  
  
And a cynical part of Cordelia's mind suggested something to her; she shooed it away, but it stuck in her thoughts. What if Wesley didn't care if they cared? It wasn't like he hadn't kept things from them before. What if he was doing it again?   
  
No. It had to have been Faith's fault. She was sure of it. Wasn't she?  
  
An exasperated sigh escaped her lips and she wiped the sweat away from her skin, wishing she was home in a nice cold tub of water with Angel...oh dear. How did that slip in there?  
  
Jesus it was way too hot in here.  
  
***********************  
  
Saris vibrated on her plush seat, her connection to the Slayer shivering with raw emotion. A moan escaped her lips and she wished she could see through the Slayer's eyes, but the emotion was too strong, and it blocked her from connecting fully. Right now all she could feel was intense sexual arousal the Slayer was feeling at the nearness of the weak human beside her.   
  
Down that below connection, there was something deeper, below the physical wants. Something fundemental and blindingly bright. She prodded it with a tendril of thought and quaked in her seat, china white hands clenched in her lap as the bond responded to her emotional whisp.   
  
These two, sitting in the desert sun, where on the same path. Their souls twisted and wrapped around each other, not knowing where the one began and the other ended. And twisting them apart would be damned hard, if not impossible. The one would die for the other and likewise.   
  
Saris opened her blank, white eyes and withdrew the tendril of thought. Interesting. Very interesting.  
  
"How close?" Elliot's voice sounded over the intercomm and she growled in her throat.   
  
"We're right behind them. They'll be stopping soon." She replied shortly, switching the intercomm off and leaning staring out the tinted windows. She'd found not only a weakness, but the very thing that could kill the Slayer, without ever having to come within eyesight of her.  
  
***************  
  
Something tickled at the back of Faith's mind and she thought it was like having a miniscule bee buzzing in her ear. A shake of her head made it go away though, and she forgot about it immediately. She turned her attention to Wesley, his face shadowed by the setting sun, his hands on the guard rail along the ridge of the Canyon.  
  
"Its so big." He said, lips turning up as he scanned the area with his eyes. She followed his gaze and had to admit she was pretty damned impressed too. A slight breeze lifted the hair off the back of her neck as she gazed down at the snaking trail of the Colorado River, so small from this distance that she couldn't believe it had made this huge thing. All it had taken was time.  
  
"Too big actually. It makes me feel so small; like my life is so short compared to this place. These rocks are forever and we're just dust on the wind." He looked at her, respect at the deep words streaming from her lips; he hadn't guessed she could be that erudite.  
  
"Makes one feel insignificant, doesn't it?" He echoed her, hand twisting around hers and drawing her away from the edge of the Canyon, shoes crunching in the gravel. She followed him back across the small park and to the little room they'd gotten, and intended to stay the whole night in, she might add.   
  
"We need more clothing. This shirt is all bloody." She said, picking at the brown stains and the bits of demon goo she hadn't had a chance to flick off yet. He looked down at his own clothing and cursed the fact that he wasn't at all prepared for a cross-country trip.   
  
"If you want, I'll go out and get us something. The less you go out, the less a target you'll make." He said, shrugging his shoulders to loosen the tension in them. :And the less I'll have to be around you while I'm in this mood.: He thought, watching her flop onto her belly down on the bed, her legs in the air and her hand on her chin. She smiled and tossed him the keys to the Malibu; he caught them in one hand, the other stuffing the credit cards into his pocket.  
  
"Get me something small and tight." She called after him, a mischievous grin on her face. He glanced back at her with a glint in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. He closed the door and she stared at the fake wood for a moment, wishing he hadn't left.   
  
But it did leave her alone to relieve the tension she'd felt since that night on the floor with him. She peeled off the soiled, sweat-soaked t-shirt and threw it against the wall, half expecting it to stick there. It didn't and she snorted derisively, then went into the adjoining room. The bathroom was tiny, but the bathtub was big enough to allow her to have nice good soak.   
  
She turned the taps on and hopped in before it was even half-full, the water lapping at skin far dirtier than it was used to being. She layed down, a cold washrag across her eyes blocking out the flickering light from the ceiling, her fingers walking across too-sensitive skin. Biting her lip, she conjured up an image of a pair blue, blue eyes and a mouth more ready to smile than frown. A mouth she imagined on her own, on her chin, everywhere her wet fingers trailed, leaving scorch marks in their wake.   
  
Jesus it was hot in here.  
  
********  
  
There was a Wal-Mart down the road from the motel and he entered it, eyes squinting at the too-bright lights and all too aware that he was dirty and smelly. Normally he avoided places like this like he was allergic to them, but as he didn't have a lot of choices, he toughed it out.   
  
As quickly as possible, he picked up some food for them, throwing things into the cart without looking at them and slowly making his way over to the clothing. He picked up little things and blessed whoever that Sam guy was that the prices were so low. He didn't know what the limit on the cards were and he didn't want to find out.   
  
"Something small and tight..." He muttered, walking past the cheap lingerie, his eyes glued to a lacy black two piece that didn't leave much to the imagination. Not that he needed much to imagine her in it.....   
  
A snorting sound caught his attention and he looked up into the eyes of a sales clerk, her heavily makeuped face twitching as she tried not to laugh. He straightened and stalked off, the back of his neck too warm and his lips pressed to a small white line.  
  
"Oh how I hate Wal-Mart."  
  
Half an hour later and he was through the checkout line, fingers clasped behind his back as the card was cleared without mishap. At least luck was on their side today. He left, purchases in hand and looking forward to a nice cold shower and sleep that wasn't on a floor or the seat of a car.  
  
A tune was on his lips as he put the bright blue bags into the trunk of the car and slammed it shut. Then something stirred itself in his brain and he had just enough time to shudder before something was inserted into his psyche. Something hard and evil and something connected to his heart that twisted like a knife and left a bloodless trail across his soul.  
  
"Kill her." Came the whisper in his brain, light and airy, like tinkling bells.   
  
"Yes." He answered with lips that weren't thinking with his heart. A part of him screamed and battered against the veil covering his mind. The other half smiled and did as he was told.  
  
Saris stepped out of the limo parked beside the Malibu, her heeled feet daintly crunching over the cracked pavement. She looked into Wesley's eyes, albino skin glowing in the floodlights overhead. She saw recognition in his eyes and for a moment, she wondered who this man was. But the rebellion in his eyes came from deep within and she knew she had him and it didn't matter who he had been. He was hers now.  
  
"This should be very interesting."   
  
*********************** 


	16. Heat

Running For Our Lives  
-----------------------  
  
  
A/N: I had the worst case of writer's block when I sat down to write this. Argh. I hate that! Well I finally got rid of that, and then I got the dreaded Family Block. You know, the one where they won't leave you alone for five minutes so you can get more than a paragraph written at a time. *sigh* Families are overrated IMHO. :)  
  
*************************  
  
Chapter 16: Heat  
  
"Its so big." Angel said, slightly in awe, his eyes scanning the vast chasm before him. Cordelia smirked and glanced over at it, wondering how he could even see it in this light.   
  
"I've seen it." She said, shrugging her shoulders and flicking a lock of hair out of her face. "So, where to?"  
  
"Fred said they're staying at another motel near here. Here's the address." He pressed a piece of paper into her hand and flicked the overhead light on. She read the address, wondering where the hell the motel was.   
  
"I have no idea where this is." She said, lifting her gaze to his. He frowned and leaned his head back against the seat, a bitter taste in his mouth.   
  
"Well, we'll rest here a minute and then we'll go someplace and ask directions. And I don't know about you, but I need to drink something or I'm going to eat my shirt." He licked his lips and reached for the cooler wedged between the seat and the back of the cab.   
  
Cordelia watched him drink a blood packet, cold and straight from the bag, his tongue licking the plastic insides, his face changing as he ate.. As disgusted as she knew she should have been, she just blinked and started in on her own small sandwich, totally indifferent to his behavior.  
  
The sweltering day had turned into night with a nip in the air and Angel rolled up the windows for her benefit. Within minutes the windows were fogged up from her breathing. Amused, she swirled patterns on the glass with her forefinger, mind somewhere else.  
  
She jumped when something hard knocked into the glass on Angel's side. Angel looked up from his meal, gold eyes glittering in the darkness.   
  
"Cop." He mouthed and tried and failed to loosen his vamp face from its claim on his features. Panicked, she launched herself at him and hid his face behind the short curtain of her hair before rolling down the window.   
  
"Can we help you Officer?" She asked breathlessly, lower lip clenched between her teeth.   
  
"You know you're not supposed to be here, right? The park is closed now." The officer said, his sharp gray eyes peering into the darkness, flashlight blinding her as he tried to see Angel's face. Angel indulged him, peaking out from behind Cordelia's hair with normal eyes and a smooth forehead.   
  
"Sorry. We're just passing through and she wanted to see the sights. If ya know what I mean?" Angel laughed, his voice taking on that possessive tone he used with her sometimes. She forced herself not to smile and instead forced an abashed look onto her face. Like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.  
  
"Sure thing. As long as you're just passing through." The officer said amiably; Angel had a feeling he'd broken up trysts like this more than once. "Just make sure you're gone before I make another lap, okay?" He started to walk away, but Cordelia stopped him.  
  
"Sir? Can you tell us where this motel is?" She thrust the paper at him and he glanced at it with his flashlight.   
  
"Yeah. Thirty miles down this road. You can't miss it." He pointed with his flashlight and handed the paper back to her. She thanked him and he walked away.   
  
"Well." Angel said, his hands still wrapped around her middle from where he'd grabbed her. She smiled and realized she was straddling his lap, the steering wheel jammed against her back and her hands tangled in his hair.   
  
"Uh..sorry...I panicked." She said, shifting so she could slide off his lap and onto the seat beside him. He watched her go, his eyes shadowed and his lap feeling naked without her straddling him.   
  
"You panic okay to me." He said pointedly, looking over at her, that possessive half-smile crossing his features again. Again, she saw something, deep within him she didn't quite grasp yet. She ran from it and looked back down at the address in her hands.   
  
"So--we'd better go!" She said brightly, stuffing the empty blood packet into the cooler and settling back down with an air of finality. He lost the smile and a soft, frustrated growl escaped his lips, like he was mad at her for something. She ignored him and pointed him in the right direction.   
  
Just for once, Angel would have liked for her to get a clue.  
  
****************  
  
Heat, suffusing everything, absorbed into the fabric of his mind, swirling around everything and confusing the things he thought he felt. Images and flashes of bright red and smiling brown eyes. Two pairs of brown eyes and he couldn't figure out which one drew him more. The first pair was all innocence and jewel-bright intelligence. She watched him, but with disinterest. He reached for her and found his hands wouldn't lift. He'd wanted her, but he'd waited too long and now he wasn't sure he'd ever wanted her at all. But he had....he was sure of it. Wasn't he?  
  
The second, the second pair, she scorched him, tore him to the earth and made him bleed in places he knew her lips had been. Her fingers were like water hissing along his spine and he could feel the dampness across his throat in patches and slashes. She worked her mouth into a smile and he thought the world would melt with the supple heat of her. Beneath her blazing flesh he sensed a river, a deep trickling trail of water connected to his soul. He wanted to swim in her and cool the heat deep inside himself. He wanted her and he didn't want to wait for the things he needed. No...if he waited, she'd evaporate into mist against his lips.   
  
So he reached and found nothing but that swirling, heat driven veil in his mind. He battered his fists upon it and found something there, something hard and evil and wrong. It spoke with his lips and it worked his limbs with mind-numbing acurracy.   
  
And it wanted her too.  
  
No...not again. He screamed and screamed, but his lips stayed clenched tight.   
  
******************  
  
Faith stepped out of the bathroom, towel clutched to her chest. Her muscles screamed in protest as she moved and she knew her back was one tight knot of tension. The bath and subsequent masterbation hadn't lessened that burning ache low in her stomach. Now her skin vibrated, water trickling down the soft slopes and pooling at her feet and her shoulders. She brushed stray droplets from her neck and searched for the panties she'd discarded earlier.  
  
She found them crumpled on the floor and she grudgingly pulled them on, wondering where in the hell Wesley'd gotten off too. Wondered and wished he'd walk in right now; she dared the door to open and frowned when it didn't. She pulled the soiled t-shirt back on and waited for him.   
  
She didn't have to wait long before the door opened and he walked in, head lowered, hands spidered against the door. His chest heaved, muscle over bone moving like waves under the splattered white wifebeater. She sat up, the bee in her ear buzzing again, the hair on the back of her neck rising. If she had hackles, they'd have been rising too.  
  
"Wes?"   
  
He moved stiffly, insects dancing in his eyes, his head tilting to the side, puckered scar pulled tight. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he looked her over a moment before speaking.   
  
"Hello. Faith." He stumbled over her name like he wanted to call her other things and thought better of it.   
  
"You wanna close the door; it's cold in the desert at night, ya know." She said, shifting in the chair and making her voice lighter than she felt. Something was wrong.   
  
"Yes. I'm sorry." Stilted voice again and he closed the door with a soft click, his eyes still connected to hers, burning a trail down her body as he looked her over and over again.   
  
"Get food?" She stood, searching for the jeans she'd misplaced, realizing she wasn't wearing anything but panties and a dirty t-shirt. Why was she suddenly so uncomfortable around him? And why was that bee in her ear again? She vibrated slightly and blinked rapidly in the soft lamplight.  
  
"Yes. In the car. Would you like to go for a drive?" A whole sentence, but one that sent those alarms in her head clanging as loud as canons.   
  
"No. I'm tired." She looked over her shoulder at him and pulled the jeans on, sliding them up over her hips as fast as she could. "I think I'm going to....take a bath." She mentally smacked herself for the lame excuse to escape the same room he was in, but something surging on the edge of her senses was controlling her words and she let it. She moved toward the door, but he crossed the distance in a heartbeat, hand slamming against the frame in front of her face.   
  
"No."   
  
"Wes...let me go." The words were cut off as he pushed her against the wall, hand splayed across her breastbone, face inches from hers. "What the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
"I thought you wanted a bad boy? Not bad enough for you?" He asked, something flashing in his eyes that made gooseflesh rise up over her arms in spasmic waves.   
  
"Wesley. Don't make me hurt you." She warned, tolerating the increasing pressure on her chest and the way his fingertips pressed down into the soft flesh between her breasts. He laughed, his mouth turning up in a way that she'd once found charming and now only held scorn. It's amazing what the eyes can do to a smile you've seen a thousand times.  
  
"But I like it when you hurt me. When you torture me and stab me and touch me. Hurt me Slayer." He begged her in a gravel-filled voice, his words bringing up the hurt she'd thought was buried between them. Two shiny flat scars on his wrists flashed in the light and she shivered between him and the wall.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" She lifted her hand to his face and felt his skin; he was burning up and her palm felt raw where she'd touched him. In response to her touch, he seared his hands across her chest, cupping one breast in his hand and tugging playfully at it. She felt a flash of desire low in her belly; she broke it off and glared up at him.   
  
"I want you." He answered instead, making that want seem like a promise and an apology all in the same breath. She was left speechless, words dropped like acid down her throat and she wanted to hit him, send him flying away from her so that she didn't feel like a piece of shit in his eyes.   
  
"That's....not what I asked." She said slowly, taking his hand in her own and twisting it away from her chest, knowing he was going to bruise where she'd touched him. He didn't even flinch.   
  
"But its what you feel. You want me." He moved closer than good sense allowed and tilted her chin with his thumb, his mouth grazing her cheek. She moved away from the smoldering heat of his skin and backed up further along the wall. He followed her, thigh brushing against hers and sending that thrill of pleasure spiraling through her again. No. This wasn't right. His breath blew out along her collarbone and she shivered.  
  
She was afraid of him. No, not of him. Of the thing inside him because she knew that this wasn't Wesley. Couldn't be Wesley. She didn't know how she knew, but from the moment he'd walked into the room she knew. Some strange river in her soul had sensed a churning deep in the waters and had known that wherever Wesley was, he was drowning. And calling out to her.   
  
"I do." She answered him, like an echo of her own apology. She felt him move closer and she realized his scent wasn't right either; there was something rotten about him, but not dead. Good. He was still alive, just infected with something demonic and hard.   
  
The bee buzzed harder in her ear, as if the words she said excited it and she wondered where the Sister was hiding. Wherever she was, she was good. Not good enough to best her; but good enough to play on her emotions and use the one thing she had in this world against her.   
  
She saw Wesley smile and she hoped he'd forgive her. Then she clocked him, muscles uncoiling and stretching, bone cracking against bone and she knew he'd be bruised and seriously pissed in a second.   
  
He just stared at her and then punched her back, his fist crashing into the side of her face with more force than a lanky Englishman should possess. Her eyes flashed and she kicked him in the thigh, knocking him down. He looked up at her with hatred in his not-right eyes and then he ran at her like a football player, slamming her around the middle and dropping with her down onto the bed.   
  
"Get off of me!" She struggled, the smile on his lips sending clammy spiders walking down her spine. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, knees pressed against the insides of her thighs, slowly prying them apart. "Wesley..."  
  
He laughed at the fear threading her voice and pressed harder, his hands slipping under the dirty t-shirt and dancing across her skin in a bruising wave. She felt his hardness pressing against her crotch and cringed, knowing what he was planning and knowing that no one hell was this Wesley. He would never hurt her like this, no matter what she'd done to him. Anger spilling past her lips in a screech, she brought her hand up to the scar along his neck and scratched, her feet working themselves between the two of them and levering her away from him. A grunt and she kicked him away from her.   
  
He landed in a sprawl, burning eyes locked on hers for a moment before he launched himself back at her again. She rolled off the bed and met his charge with an elbow to his stomach, then grabbed his shoulder and ran him into a wall headfirst. He fell back into her arms and she slammed her fist into that arrogantly held chin; a muffled grunt and he collapsed, eyes closed in pain, a red welt rising immediately across his forehead. Fire flared up in her stomach, bile churning as she looked down at her fallen Watcher. She bent, setttling him gently on the floor, smoothing one hand over the welt and feeling her heart breaking.   
  
"Sorry Wes." A beat and then she spoke directly to that bee in her ear, knowing that wherever the bitch was, she'd hear her."Come out and fight me. Your pathetic attempt at assassination failed. So come out and we'll play fair." It was a challenge not only spoken with words, it was laced with her anger and worry over the man on the floor and fear that she hated. She hated fear.   
  
"You're good. The Watcher's Council said you were good, but I didn't believe them." Tinkling bells sounded from behind her and she whirled to see the door open and a white-white-woman standing there, arms crossed over her chest, silky strands of pale hair spilling down her shoulders and across the rich white velvet of her robes.   
  
Faith was struck with the beauty of her for a moment and then she recovered, shaking her head to clear the bee from the back of her mind before turning hate-filled eyes to her. "The Council?" She asked, brow furrowing in confusion. She glanced over at Wesley for a moment before refocusing on the Sister in the doorway.  
  
"Yes, they're behind all this. Didn't you know?" The Sister said, milky white eyes looking at her and a light blue tendril of power curling up from her hands. She played with it, twisting the emotion into a curl before springing it free and sending it spiraling back into her body.  
  
Faith glanced down at Wesley again, the feeling of betrayal nestling in her heart. It felt strangely foriegn there for all the betrayal she'd had in her life and she didn't like it. She snapped her gaze back to the demon in the doorway and growled, "Stop fucking with my emotions."  
  
The demon laughed, white, white teeth flashing, blue tendrils spidering out from her throat as air was pushed from her lungs. "You think that's enough to stop me? I've been in your heart, Slayer. I know what you feel, how you feel and why you feel so strongly for him. We're attached you and I, at the heart."   
  
"You have no heart." Faith spat, stomping in front of the beautiful alabaster demon and glaring up at her.   
  
"I don't need one. I have yours." And with that, she flicked the rubber band between them and the bee was stirred into a frenzy, blocking out all sound as she vibrated with power. A million emotions she didn't even know the name of rocked her, shocked and angered her within the space of a second. She saw the attachment for what it was and fear laced through her.   
  
And it pissed her off.  
  
She leapt at the demon, hands clenched into fists to hard they were like mallets hammering at her beautifully sculpted face. They both went down, tumbling out the door and into the sand outside.   
"No. One. Makes. Me. Afraid." She spat it out through gritted teeth, thumbs finding the eyesockets of the demon in her hand and pressing, pressing, pressing until something popped like a grape and jelly oozed out past her flesh. Still she kept digging, hoping to kill that damned bee and make it stop its stinging.   
  
****************  
  
Too fucking warm and he thought he saw her, scared and shaking. Scared of him and the things he was saying and doing. Threatening her. She touched his face and he knew she was melting against him. He battered his fists again and felt the veil waver slightly, but not enough. She was fighting whatever it was that had her. Him. She was fighting him.   
  
And then, he thought he heard an echo, so filled with scorching, searing honesty that he grasped on to it and pulled it into that dark, too warm heat.   
  
"I want you." And then. Darkness. The heat fled and he clung to those three words and let them pull him out of the mire of his mind. Pulled and shifted and pushed him up in front of his own eyes, like a child to a telescope on a starry night. He pressed his face against the twin eyes and felt the snap of something connecting, becoming whole again.   
  
He slowly came back to himself.  
  
*****************  
  
"Saris!" A deep, booming voice invaded the haze of anger and she centered in on it, knowing it was an enemy and she targeted it without thinking. He touched her, intending to rip her off his Mistress, but his arm came away in her hands and she heard him scream. She dropped the arm and took his neck in her own hands and twisted until so many things cracked it was like someone stepped on bubble wrap.   
  
Whoever he was, he dropped to the sand beside her and didn't move, so she turned her red-misted eyes back to the demon in her hands.   
  
All that beauty was fading as she beat on her and beat on her until the white, white skin was black and cracked under her knuckles. The bee stirred once more and then it quieted. She stopped and listened, felt with her heart.   
  
And then a crack as the rubberband exploded, making her physically reel away from the dead body on the ground. Faith landed on her side, breath rasping in her chest and something dripping down her face. She stared at the body for a moment and then leapt back at it and clawed at the chest, ripping the bloody white velvet open to reveal the demon's breasts. Still she clawed and peeled and forced her fist into the oozing cavity of the chest, warm, searing heat enveloping her hand as she plunged it into Saris's chest. She seized what she'd been looking for and tugged with all the strength she had in her.  
  
Something touched her shoulder and called her name at the same time. She looked back at Wesley, one eye blackened, his lip split, welt an angry purple. The sight of his wounds made the anger grow and she tugged one final time, pulling the heart free of its chamber.   
  
"Faith. Stop." Wesley's voice, stilted but stilted because it was him behind the eyes and not the demon. Stilted because he saw madness in her eyes and it scared him. "Put it down."   
  
She glanced back over at the black heart in her hands, wondering how something so colorless on the outside could have been so dark on the inside. She quivered, not knowing if she could do it and praying he'd help her. She wanted him to help her.   
  
The plea was plain in her eyes and he uncurled her fingers from their death grip on the dead organ, pulling her thumb out from its grave in the black tissue. Her fingers uncurled, she let it fall to the sand, bile so thick in her throat that she choked for air.  
  
"Wesley?" Faith choked, working the word out past the lump in her throat. He gathered her up against his chest, face nuzzled in the damp strands of hair, hands pushing against her arms to make the fists unclench, the hard line of her jaw to soften and the mad light in her eyes to break apart.   
  
"I'm here. It's okay." He whispered in her ear, heat sliding across her earlobe and sending shivers dancing down her spine. She trembled at the sureity in his words and collapsed against the softness of his chest. Comforting arms encircled her and she broke down, crying against him.   
  
He picked her up and put her in the car, his own aches making him stumble and pant, but he refused to put her down. Ignoring the terrified eyes peaking out past the doors of the rented rooms, he hopped into the car after her and tore off into the night, wishing for once that the Powers would give his Slayer a break.   
  
And him.  
  
**************** 


	17. More Than Skin

Running For Our Lives  
-----------------------  
  
  
Rating: NC-17!!! whoo!   
A/N: Oh me oh my! I know I promised violence and smut...well you've had plenty of violence and I know the smut was long in coming...haha...get it--- coming....what with the pun of it all? Uh, anyway...read on my perverted friends. God help me I love you people. ;)  
  
  
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Chapter 17: More Than Skin  
  
"The Five." Angel said, kneeling before the white body on the ground. He caught Faith's scent all over the corpse and Wesley on the edges. The oozing black heart was still warm and he smelled the death had happened a few minutes ago. They'd just missed them.   
  
"Five?" Cordelia asked, trying not to stare at the other body with its missing arm and head nearly torn from its perch atop the neck.   
  
"The Five. They're demon assassins. I thought they were a myth." Angel muttered under his breath, his eyes roving over the crescent shaped tattoo.   
  
"White or black hat?" Cordy asked, her legs twitching like she wanted to run back to Gunn's truck.  
  
"Black." The vampire said shortly, standing back up and catching the sound of sirens on the breeze. "We'd better go. They aren't that far ahead now; we just missed them by a few minutes." He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her to the truck.   
  
"So these demon assassins are after Faith and Wesley? I don't get it..." Cordelia's voice trailed off and she looked behind her at the fast approaching lights, seeing them turn into the motel parking lot they'd just left.   
  
"Get what?" He prompted, glancing over at her.  
  
"Why hasn't Wesley called us, asked for help? He should have known we'd be worried and...well I just don't get it." She ended with frustration.  
  
"I know the feeling." He fell silent and stared off into the night. "But it's not like he hasn't done this before, right?   
  
"Right." Cordelia said sullenly, sinking down in the seat, eyes shadowed. "But..we still have to help them. Or ring their necks."  
  
"I'm up for both actually."   
  
"Sounds like a plan to me. And remind me to apologize to Faith for nearly putting a voodoo curse on her before I bitch-slap her, okay?" Angel allowed himself a small chuckle and then turned his attention back to the road.   
  
*********************   
  
Something was wrong with her.   
  
Wesley glanced over at her, worried beyond the word, watching her chest rise and fall and the glazed look in her eyes. Her gore-covered hands twisted in her lap and she flinched every time he made a move, like she was afraid of him.  
  
And could he blame her? It had happened again; he'd tried to hurt her, the things he felt brought to the surface and coming out in violence. He felt sick to his stomach, yet he didn't have anything in his system to purge. Nothing except guilt.   
  
She'd hate him now; he knew it. He dreaded the look in her eyes and the way she avoided touching him. But he couldn't blame her for it. He hated himself too. As he glanced over at her, he realized the guilt would have to come later; right now she was in some state of shock.  
  
A gas station glowed along the road and he prayed it was open, pulling the stolen Malibu to a stop in the gravel before it. He went inside and took the keys to the bathroom from the clerk and then came back outside and helped the shocky Slayer out of the car, her eyes blank and unseeing.  
  
In the little bathroom, he washed her hands, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down at the paleness of her skin and the glazed look in her eyes. He wiped away a streak of black blood from her cheek and whispered in her ear.  
  
"Come back to me. Please." His words were desperate and pain-filled. His hands gripped her shoulders and shook her, hoping for a reaction. Nothing but that shocked expression. What the hell had that demon done to her? Done to him? "Faith...please...I need you."  
  
Nothing...and then...something. She blinked and intelligence sparked somewhere deep within her.   
  
"Wes? We should go." Her words were far away and she pushed past him, walking out to the car and sitting down in the passenger's seat.   
  
It was with a heavy, terrified heart that he climbed back into the stolen Malibu and covered her with the cheap blanket he'd bought. She shivered and stared out the window and he wondered what, if anything, she was thinking.  
  
An hour later they were both still silent. He suddenly realized he was heading back west, back to Los Angeles. It was stupid, he rationalized, to have run when he had people to help him. And Angel, who was the only person who knew what she was going through, could have protected her far better than he had. He'd only done what he did with everything: he fucked up and now she was...broken.  
  
Faith was still shaking inside from the drain on her emotions that Saris's power had done to her. She dimly felt Wesley next to her, his body tense and his expression shadowed. She felt bad that she'd hurt him, but what else could she have done? He probably blamed her for what had happened, and she couldn't hate him for that.   
  
Three days ago, his anger would have slid off her skin like water, but now...oh now she felt raw and weak at the thought of his ire. Her soul twanged like a tuning fork, centering on him and breaking into little pieces when she realized she couldn't read his thoughts. Not that she ever could before, but now...oh now she was like liquid oozing in his brain. Thick and clinging to everything that made him who he was. But she couldn't tell what he was thinking.   
  
"What are you thinking?" She said suddenly, breaking the silence and making him start at the clarity of her voice. She turned jewel-bright eyes his way and he relaxed visibly.   
  
"I was thinking we should stop running." He said quietly, gaze flicking from her to the road and back again.  
  
"And do what?"  
  
"Go back to Los Angeles, where the people who are good at handling these things can handle them." He said shortly, frown turned inward as she took a deep breath.  
  
"You're handling things fine. I don't want to go back." She argued, hands clenched in her lap.  
  
"No I'm not. I...I almost...it almost happened again. And I can't stand the thought of hurting you." Wesley looked over at her, hurt and fear in his eyes. But not anger.   
  
"You haven't hurt me." Faith responded, brows furrowed as she turned deadly serious eyes to him. "I'm the one who fucked up. I let that bitch take you over; I let you down. You don't want to be my Watcher anymore....."   
  
"What? No!" He protested, slamming on the brakes and throwing the car into park. He gripped her arms and looked into her eyes. "I'm your Watcher, nothing is going to change that."  
  
"But you want to go back." She started to say, stepping out of the vehicle as that old claustrophobic feeling was creeping up her spine and making her feel like she wasn't getting enough oxygen in her system. "You want to dump me off on someone so that I'm not your problem, but I'm yours, Wesley."  
  
"Mine?" He caught the slip and snagged onto it, gripping it with his heart as he got out of the car. She paced across the gravel on the side of the car, her arms wrapped around her middle as she stared into the blackness of the road. If it had been daylight, she could have seen for miles in either direction, but now nothing could penetrate that darkness. She didn't even see headlights of a distant car.   
  
"I...you know what I mean."   
  
"No, I don't."   
  
"I don't either. I want...I don't know what I want anymore. That bitch really fucked me up, ya know?"  
  
He felt uncharacteristically stupid standing there along a deserted desert road in the middle of the night, a beautiful young woman trying to tell him something he couldn't quite understand. He was missing something, he thought, but then an echo in his brain sounded across his inner ears and he remembered those words that had pulled him out of the fire. Suddenly those thoughts were flung to the wind as she spoke again, anger harsh in her words.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me the Watcher's Council is behind all this?"   
  
"I wanted you to trust me and I didn't think you would if you knew the Council was involved." He answered after a pause. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I hate being lied to."  
  
"I know, but I..." His sentence was cut off as she slapped him, eyes blazing. And then she realized what she'd done and she took a step back, lip trembling.  
  
"Oh God...Wesley I'm sorry...." She moaned, eyes filling with tears. He glared back at her and shook his head, feeling the side of his face throbbing. "See? All I ever do is hurt the people I love. I am disgusting."   
  
"No. You're. Not." He said, gathering her up, but she broke free.   
  
"Yes I am!" Her gaze cast down to the ground, shoulders shaking. "I can't even be good when I try! I just fuck up and then I'm thinking these things...."  
  
"Things?" He asked, staring at her, posture rigid.  
  
"Things. Just...things. Things that'll never happen because you and I...there's too much there."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
She stared at him for one long moment, eyes far away. "Those things you said, just the demon?"  
  
"I...that wasn't me. But..."  
  
"Of course not." She said in a resigned voice, a mad giggle escaping her lips and hurt filling the spaces his words left in her fragile skin. He saw she was shutting down, whatever she was going to admit retreating back into her mind. But he wanted her to admit it.   
  
"Faith...did you want me to mean those things because...." He stammered out and shifted, wondering if he should cross the line he'd been teetering on since he'd first seen her in that alley. She looked back up at him, eyes cold, head tilted at a bitter angle.  
  
"Because you can't. You're my Watcher, or at least you were. And I'm....I'm something less than human." Faith's words were laden with guilt and a hurt he didn't even know she could produce.  
  
"No you're not! Whatever you once were, you're different. There was a time I didn't think you could ever change....but I was wrong. I was wrong and I'm sorry." His voice caught as she turned her bottomless eyes on him, jaw clenched.   
  
"Still...its not enough, is it?"   
  
"Enough for what?"  
  
"Jesus FUCK Wesley, get a clue!" Faith threw her hands up and glared up at him. "Things I've been feeling...it's just skin isn't it? There's nothing deeper because there can't be."   
  
"You and I..."   
  
"There is no you and I, Wesley. And that hurts me more than I want it to."  
  
"Faith, would you listen to me for a bloody moment? *We* are wrong. But the moment I looked down into your eyes when we first met again...well I've never felt anything like this. Right is something I've put too much stock in and goddamnit, I want to be wrong for the right reasons."  
  
"I didn't understand a word of that." She stared blankly at him and he sighed heavily, grabbing her shoulders and looked into her eyes.  
  
"I. Want. You." Wesley forced through his teeth, seeing the intake of breath through her parted lips. He lifted a hand to trail his thumb over her lower lip, sparks dancing as bruised skin met skin.   
  
A flicker of something she couldn't name sparked in her. She ran from it, systems shutting down because he was too close; never let them get close because they'll just hurt you. But she wanted him close; she wanted him to ooze through her brain like she was doing to him; she wanted to let him in. But that ingrained fear reared its head and she muttered. "It's just skin...its not real."  
  
"More than skin." He growled and grabbed her, grabbed her so hard, fingers twisted in her hair as he pulled her lips to his. She fought for one second before she returned the crush, hands bruising as she grabbed for him. Her touch was fire and ice and it broke the anger and guilt and sparked that low-slung desire deep within him. She kissed him back, lips working against his, tongues clashing together like swords. A moan escaped past his lips and she didn't know if it was him or her doing it.   
  
She didn't care a moment later when his fingers found her breasts, tender and fierce at the same time, tips sliding along the top of her shirt to the sides, palm wide as he brushed along one nipple, leaving it hard and aching in his wake. She bit his lip gently, drawing it into her mouth and suckling at the skin, his tongue darting along her top lip in a gentle, slippery line.   
  
He pushed her toward the car, her back slamming against the side. His lips lifted off of hers and he gently pushed the straps of her tank top down, exposing her shoulders and the swell of her breasts. His head dipped, tongue flicking out over skin that was too sensitive and hungering for him. His hands slid from her breasts to the the line of her jeans, his fingers tangling themselves in the belt loops. She raised her hips to him, wanting him to touch her more, his mouth hovering above her breasts, the skin warmed by his breath.   
  
He did so, pulling her soiled shirt off and his tongue slipping, dipping to the aching peak of one nipple as his fingers pushed between her legs, feeling her warmth through the fabric of her jeans. She bit her lip and surged up onto his hand, inviting him to explore anything he wanted, her fingers tugging at his hair, pressing his mouth hard against her breasts.   
  
"Wes..." She purred his name, hips grinding against his, begging him to touch her.   
  
With wrench, he unbottoned her pants, zipper sliding down beneath his finger, cold air striking her exposed belly and making the muscles jump, quiver beneath his questing fingers. His hands left her hips and took her hands in his own, prying them out of his hair. He turned her around, belly pressed against the hood of the car, hands bracing herself.   
  
A wordless moan escaped her lips again as he pressed his groin against her ass; she felt his erection hard against her cleft, muscle straining through layers of clothing. She wondered what he was going to do, but her question was answered as one of his hands grazed her belly, fingers dipping, sliding down the front of her pants, past the lacy panties and through twin folds of satiny softness.  
  
"You're so wet." He breathed against her ear as she gasped, surged onto his hand, lip bitten against a harsh cry. He pressed his straining erection harder against her, rocking her hips with one hand and his fingers finding her clit, tips swirling over the petal soft flesh and making her jerk against him.   
  
One arm on the hood, she reached down, her fingers spread across his arm, pushing his hand deeper into the warmth between her legs. One finger slowly, achingly slowly, entered her, pushing past wet, dripping folds to the hot, sweet center of her. He withdrew and entered her again, this time going deeper, his lips grazing the line of her shoulder as she moaned. Again and again he pushed into her, his thumb swirling over her clit and making her breath come in choppy little pants.   
  
"Harder." She whispered, angling her head back to graze his lips with her tongue. He smiled darkly and pushed deeper into her center, rocking his hips against her, so hard he thought he was going to die from the rush of blood through his senses.   
  
Faith's world was exploding, the sand and the moon slipping across her skin and settling in the place where his fingers pushed inside of her, stretching her and taking away all the pain and hurt in her soul. This was more than skin, this was something deeper, like her soul being trapped in his eyes and all she wanted to do was stay there forever. More than anything she wanted to stay safe in his arms.  
  
More than skin. More than anything.  
  
Faith came, shaking, quivering as he held her hard against his stomach, fingers stilled and his lips attached to her neck. One more shudder and she moved against him, restless. Slowly, he pulled his hand out from between her legs and brought them up to the air, brushing the wet fingers against her nipples and making them tight and hard in the breeze.   
  
"Was that just skin?" Wes whispered, hand claiming her breast for his own as he crushed her against his back. The words were filled with desire so hard and needy that she nearly came again, her lip trembling as she found the strength to answer him by turning, fingers groping for the buckle of his pants.   
  
A hiss of breath escaped his lips as his hard cock sprang into her fingers, full and soft and warm. He moaned as she stroked her fingers down the length of him, fingers like butterflies against his hard flesh. His hips surged up against her hand and she lifted her mouth to his, tongue sliding into his mouth. He kissed her back, plundering her mouth and feeling a building ache in his stomach as she stroked him, harder and harder until he couldn't take the feel of her on his skin.  
  
He broke the streaming kiss and grabbed her hips, impatient hands pulling her jeans down and throwing them to the wind. She chuckled in her throat and captured his lips once more as he lifted her, setting her on the warm hood of the car. She wrapped her slender legs around his waist and reached for him again.  
  
He let her guide him inside her, soft, supple flesh sliding past the dripping folds and entering her with a powerful thrust of his hips. She moaned, muttered and clung to him, hands and lips everywhere she could reach and cursing the places she couldn't. Wesley shuddered and pulled out once more, then pushed inside her once again, pleasure trailing down his spine and pressing against his vitals, letting him know it was too much, too much but he could take more.   
  
His hands trailed her body as he pressed her to the hood, his fingers finding the long, flat scar along her belly. He mourned the wound that had almost taken her and he cursed anyone who would dare hurt her again.   
  
"Faith...oh god..." He moaned as she fastened her lips to the puckered scar along his throat, her tongue probing the slash, phantom pain swirling through his chest and making his voice come out tight and harsh. He slammed into her hard; she keened high in her throat and let his skin go, fingers crushing into the muscle of his arms.  
  
Her back arched as he rocked against her over and over again, his hands finding hers, drawing her arms up and pinning them over her head. She laughed again, a moan close behind, a smile stretched across lips he wanted to bite and see bleed. He captured her mouth once more and felt her breath rasping, becoming more frantic as he brought to the edge.   
  
Her muscles spasmed around his cock and he held her tight, his body growing taut, muscles screaming. When she came, her cry uttered to his mouth, he followed her, orgasm rocking him, shaking him to the core and making him sag against her, weak and spent.   
  
She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up to the sky, more than skin tingling with his nearness and a feeling of utter contentment taking up residence in her soul. She laughed suddenly when she realized he'd been the one calling the shots and she'd let him; something she'd never let a man do to her before. But with him...it had felt natural....And who would have thought her Watcher was the domineering type? Oh but it felt so good, trapped here with him, yet free to run if she chose to, knowing the ropes he'd just put on her could be slipped at a moment's notice. But she wanted to stay tied.  
  
"What?" Wesley asked, voice vibrating through her chest, his fingers tickling her sweaty skin and making her melt all over again.   
  
"I was just thinking....that was....that was more than skin." She said softly, looking into the eyes he lifted to meet hers, a smile touching her swollen lips.   
  
"Yes, it was."   
  
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	18. The Way Home

Running For Our Lives  
-----------------------  
  
A/N: Just a little thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story! I live and die for the reviews and you guys rock! And SingtoAngels, archive away honey! (I thought I sent you a reply, but knowing me, I probably forgot or something....I really should get organized. Or less lazy.)  
  
  
  
Chapter 18: The Way Home  
  
  
Charles Gunn wasn't much for waiting around for something to happen. He was a man of action and damnit, he wasn't getting any. Well he was, but not the fighty kind. The kind that grounded him, narrowed his world to black and white, fight kill destroy. He was the good guy and the bad guys went down and that was that.   
  
Now he felt lost, staring at the sleeping form of his girlfriend where she was sprawled on her bed, chestnut curls splayed across the pillow. Lost and useless. Wesley was gone, who knows where, Angel and Cordelia were acting all blood vengeancy and Lorne was walking around like he had a bug up his ass. A very smug bug because for once he'd been right about something.  
  
But Gunn wasn't so sure he was right. There were too many variables involved, like why the hell Wesley had gone all tight-lipped again and why was Faith here. The reasons for the flight were simple enough, from what Angel had told them about the demon assassins, but still, Gunn was uneasy. He felt slightly hurt because, once again, his best friend had felt the need to push him out of his life when it mattered most.   
  
He stood, bare chest shining as his skin caught the light and melted over smooth planes of ebony muscle. His back was a knot of tension and he was restless, his limbs aching for a good fight. But no, it was his turn to play Bounty Hunter and give Lorne a break. He slipped a shirt on and padded downstairs to the lobby, where the green demon was hunched over the screen, his red eyes glazed and a cigarette in his fist.   
  
"Anything yet, and put that out." Gunn said, coughing slightly as he sat down beside him. The Host started and stubbed it out, his bleary eyes still glued to the screen.  
  
"They used the MasterCard again; they must be heading back home because they stopped in Bullhead City for gas. At least I think they did; I only watched Hackers once and I don't remember much." Lorne answered, squinting at the screen.  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Fred's the real whiz at this." Gunn half-smiled in the semi darkness and sighed heavily.   
  
"That she is. Little thing asleep?"   
  
"Yeah. She was worn out."  
  
"I bet she was." Lorne's eyes twinkled in the darkness and Gunn had the decency to look down at his feet for a moment. "So, enough with the enuendo! Cordy and Hero Sandwich are on their way behind the rogues. They seemed....less intense."  
  
"Really? Good. I was kind of worrying about that. Especially Cordelia; she's not usually so....bloodthirsty."  
  
"I know, but she's had a lot on her plate lately and when she thought Wes was...well that was too much for her." Lorne answered, rubbing his chin with a long, lime finger. "For all of us."  
  
"Yeah." Gunn answered in a grunt and cracked his knuckles.  
  
"Even me." Lorne added, smile turning up the corners of his mouth, skin wrinkling into darker shades of green. "I'm pretty damn nuetral by nature, but these people just get under my skin. Makes me want to take a side."   
  
"They're the only side I believe in anymore. They make you care about them, ya know?" Gunn said, his eyes moving up the stairs to Fred's door, where she was sleeping peacefully, her tired mind finally having given out on her---at Gunn's insistence.  
  
"Yes they do. You're all a big family." Lorne told him, leaning back in his chair and gazing at the screen.  
  
"Dunno if I feel that way. Just here for the mission."  
  
"And the chicks. The chicks aren't bad."   
  
"No they're not." Gunn half smiled and let his eyes wander back upstairs.   
  
"But that's not the only thing you're here for. Am I right, amigo?" Lorne prompted him as Charles tore his eyes away from the stairs. "You love these people as much as I do, as much as you hate to admit it. Even Angel, when he's not being an complete idiot."  
  
"Yeah, well maybe that's none of your business?"   
  
"Maybe, but you can't lie to me."  
  
"Why? You lied to me! Wesley lied to me! Excuse me if I have trust issues." Gunn bit back, glaring at the demon before him.   
  
"I didn't lie to you. *I* just kept my mouth shut about something that wasn't your business. It was Wesley's descision whether or not you should know. And that's the problem isn't it?" Lorne said, head tilting to look at the young black man. "Wesley."  
  
"He's....the man is the coolest dude I've ever met and yet I want to kick his ass so hard. He's a bastard. And a smartass bastard at that. First Fred, and then that whole Holtz thing and now...this. What is with him?"  
  
"Whoa! Bring it down a notch, you're blinding me!" Lorne said, eyes widening. "This isn't about being betrayed, is it? This just about Fred and Wesley. You don't trust him not to come on to her."  
  
"It ain't like that..."  
  
"Yes it is, hot chocolate. I can tell you, if Wesley is with Faith, then you've got nothing to worry about. Fred's going to seem like a high school crush compared to that." Lorne smiled widely, revealing white teeth. "Those two are on a path and nothing short of death is going to tear them apart."   
  
"Faith...she's....what?"  
  
"She's what I like to call destiny, bro. I don't know her from a hole in the wall, but I know Wesley enough tell you that Fred is the last person in his thoughts. They're Watcher and Slayer and that's a strong bond, but not as strong as kye-rumption."  
  
"Kye-rumption?" The word sounded vaguely familiar and the way it sounded had Fred's lilting drawl on it, as if he'd heard her whisper it on the edge of his memory.   
  
"Ask Fred about it. She's more of a romantic than me; I'm strictly a wham-bam thank you ma'am kind of guy. Oh, and when you ask her, be prepared for a long, long talk." Lorne stood up, stretching and easing the ache in his neck. "Going to bed. Have a nice night."  
  
"See ya." Gunn called to his back, taking his place in front of the screen. Gunn sat back, thoughts turned inward and his muscles doing that restless twitching he usually worked out to get rid of. Instead, he shifted in the chair and refreshed the page, his mind on other things and his lips pressed to a thin line. He let his mind wander in little circles, from Fred to Wesley to Faith to the words of Lorne and Angel and Cordelia. A vague worry for Connor was nestled in there somewhere, but he glossed over it with a terrified heart. Best not to think about things like that.   
  
The last thing his restless, action lacking mind wondered before he was hit in the back of the head with something large and blunt was that kye-rumption sounded like some sort of disease. And he didn't think he wanted it.  
  
*********************  
  
"Pick up! Where are you? This is a bloody emergency and you're probably out shagging and why won't you pick up?" Wesley screamed into the phone as the number he'd dialed rang for the upteenth time in a row. The sound was driving him crazy, but he let it ring, tapping his thumb in time with the ring against the receiver as he listened.  
  
Finally, he hung it up with a disgusted growl and stepped out of the phone booth. A glance back at the car though, and all his anger faded into mist. Faith's head was cradled against the top of the door, her eyes closed and her face peaceful in the sunlight. She had that morninglow about her and he smiled as he felt a thrill move through him, tightening in his groin a moment before he shook the feeling away and climbed back into the car.   
  
She didn't stir as his weight rocked the car, wind whispering across the flesh of her long, pale legs. Something small and tight had been shorts and a tank top, and he was glad he'd learned a thing or two from Cordelia about what women wore. But his thoughts were digressing to a state of mind that left no other thought but her, and he needed to concentrate on other things right now.  
  
:If they're not answering the phone....then they're on a case. Cordelia had a vision or something. Hmm...and they're not even looking for me! Well...maybe they are and that's while they aren't there. Oh bloody hell my head hurts.: His thoughts were a little too much for a man who had been hunted, beaten, controlled and shagged, all within the last twenty-four hours.   
  
Sometimes he wondered what a quiet life would have been like. Another glance at Faith and he didn't want to wonder. Let 'em keep the quiet life; he'd have the world.   
  
Faith stirred on the seat, sunken into a well-deserved slumber. He felt a pang of guilt, something he'd been more than used to in the last couple of weeks, at the thought that he'd let her down. Took her away from safety and help and brought her to the....Grand Canyon? What the hell was wrong with him? They were, what, sightseeing? A true testament to the fact that he wasn't thinking any more, mainly because he didn't trust his mind any farther than he could throw it. All he knew what his heart was telling him and it was screaming at him to go back to L.A.  
  
So here he was, parked outside of a rest stop along Interstate 40 and too damned exhausted to go on any further. He considered rousing Faith, but the look of contentment on her face, like she was a big cat laying lazily in a sunbeam, clenched the deal. Time to sleep for a few hours.  
  
He settled onto the seat, pulling her head into his lap with one hand. She stirred again and one eye slowly opened. "Stop movin' Wes...." She sank into his arms and he layed back, just enjoying the feel of her skin on his and concentrating on the steady rise and fall of her chest. His mind went back to the night before and all he could do was smile, thumbs rubbing her shoulder in a smooth, circular motion. She sighed and sank further into his embrace.  
  
Slowly, he fell asleep. Very slowly.  
  
***************  
  
Faith slowly got out from under Wesley's arm and inched toward the door. He sighed in his sleep, naked arms reaching for her body, but she squirmed out of his way and popped the door open, flinching as it made a creaking noise.   
  
As quietly as a Slayer could move, she got out of the car and walked to the telephone booth, grabbing the receiver off the hook, and punching in a number she knew by heart, but had never used. She waited for the operator to patch them through, her fingers twisting around the metal cord.   
  
"Yes we'll accept the charges!" Cordelia Chase's voice was eager and maddeningly bright. "Lorne?"  
  
"Uh...no. Angel there?" She said, voice trembling just a little bit under the weight of her emotions.   
  
"Fred?"   
  
"No. Put Angel on Cordelia."   
  
"Who is this?"  
  
"Sweet fuck, bitch! Just get me the damned vampire!" She exploded, glancing back at the car parked in front of her, breath hitching in her throat as she saw Wesley move his head from side to side.  
  
"Oh. It's you."  
  
"Yeah, me. Angel, please? NOW." There was a muffled shifting sound and what she could only guess would be Queen C huffing out a great, miffed breath.  
  
"Faith? Where's Wesley?" Angel's voice was as battered and weary as she felt.   
  
"That's it? No, 'hey Faith, glad you're out of jail and by the way, are you evil again?' I'm shocked."  
  
"Faith..." Angel's voice was a warning and she swallowed her instincts to act like a bitch, which was rather hard to do.  
  
"Wes is fine. We're going back to L.A. We were attacked." She said haltingly, wondering how much she should tell them.  
  
"The Five. I know. We've been following you since you left. We thought Wesley was dead. Why didn't you call us?" Angel asked impatiently, and she had no trouble picturing his brooding brow furrowed, dark eyes scowling at the world.  
  
"There wasn't time. But don't be mad at Wes! It was my fault too and I know that we should have gone to you...but..."  
  
"But you thought you could handle it alone. I get that, but I'm still pis---"  
  
"Not to mention I haven't had a decent night's rest since and I thought Wesley was dead and I was seriously going to KILL you and you better not have hurt him because if you did...."  
  
"Cordy!" Angel could be heard saying as he wrenched the phone away from his Seer.   
  
"You were saying?" Faith said dryly, corners quirking as she watched Wes move around on the seat, his head thrown back and that ugly scar shining in the dim lights of the rest stop.  
  
"Actually, what she said." He said into the phone, voice switching in and out as static came on the line. "Where are you at?"  
  
"Rest stop on 40 right outside of Newberry Springs. You?"  
  
"Needles."  
  
"Gotcha. How soon can you be here?"   
  
"Dunno. A couple of hours. Not long if I speed. Which reminds me...my car..."  
  
"Uh..gotta go. See you in a few." She quickly hung up and sagged against the side of the booth, eyes heavy. With a sigh, she slunk back to the car and slid in as slowly as she'd left. He didn't stir as she curled up in his lap once more and buried her face against his chest, fingers finding his and squeezing hard. If heaven was anything like this, she would gladly go. But not yet; right now she just wanted to be here, with him. The morning after, and she was still around. It was so new to her, she didn't know what to do. So she did nothing.  
  
She nodded off with a smile on her lips and a prayer that he wouldn't hate her too much when he woke up. She didn't know if she could stand that.  
  
*************  
  
Big, dumb and ugly. That's what the others called her, when they addressed her at all. Personally, she liked Orin. Orin the Strong. Orin the Flyer! Orin the Killer. Orin the Slayer Slayer. Yeah, that one had a nice ring to it.  
  
The Slayer Slayer looked down through the darkness, veined wings on her back pumping as her fists clenched, icy wind whipping around her smooth, hairless body. Sharp beak knashing, tasting the wind for some sign that she was on the right path. She'd have to stop soon and rest, then eat something large. Perhaps a person, if she could find one.  
  
Orin smiled hawkishly at that thought, icy wind rushing past her nares and making her three stomachs rumble loudly. That was the worst thing about flying; you had to eat to fuel yourself and if you didn't, well she'd learned that mistake once while flying over Italy. She still had the scars from the fall to earth she'd taken. It was this need for fuel that had her so behind. Fast she might be on her wings, but she couldn't fly during the day where it was populated (they'd only shoot at her...again). She liked this desert and its open stretches of pale sand, stretching for miles. Her other problem was that she didn't know where to go. Sure, she knew Los Angeles, but that was the only thing she'd started off knowing.  
  
  
She'd solved that problem the first night after her sisters had left her in front of the Watcher's Council HQ. Instead of trying to track a person whose scent she didn't know, she tracked her sisters. Followed Mateo on the plane to Los Angeles and then felt her die. Then Uriah, running on her feet like she always did because she liked to pretend she was a rabbit. At least that was what she'd told Orin once; of course, she was probably making fun of her again. Orin keened and knashed her beak together again; she wouldn't really miss Uriah. And then had come Saris, taking her sweet time because she thought she was so great and elegant.  
  
"Well she's not." Orin clacked, bird-like tongue sneaking past her beak to taste the air, searching for Saris's scent on the wind and opening the channel between her sisters wide. She caught a stray thought from Lian, but didn't understand the words. "Captured who?"   
  
She shrugged her massive, hunched shoulders and ignored the slowest sister; she wasn't even on the trail of the prize anymore---not a threat as of right now and that's all that Orin cared about. That and ---suddenly she was slammed with the force of death-energy as Saris's life was taken. Orin keened high again, throat throbbing as she tried and failed to draw air.   
  
Her wings beat the air in great, swooping strokes, but the energy took her and she lost control, spiraling out of the sky to land in a painful heap in the hard, sun-baked desert sand.   
  
Several hours later, she came back herself, aware that the tattoo on her face was burning  
  
**************** 


	19. Heard And Not Seen

Running For Our Lives  
-----------------------  
  
Chapter 19: Heard and Not Seen  
  
"Are we there yet?"   
  
"For the last time; no. Geez...you're just as bad as....me." Cordelia said, glancing down at the wrapped bundle on the floor, his dark orbs peaking out into the sunlight filled cab of the truck.   
  
"Sorry. But I've got this feeling that we're running out of time. We've got to get to Wes soon." Angel said, fidgeting on the seat so much she could almost hear his muscles aching.   
  
"Oh, so you're actually concerned with someone other than yourself, now?" She answered with a wry twist of her lips.  
  
"I know I've been....obsessed with getting Connor back, but....I do care about you guys. You're my family. Even Wesley, as much as I'd like to rip his head off and feed him to a Hecklaar demon..."   
  
"You were hurt when you thought he was dead." Cordy finished up for him, saying the thing she knew he couldn't bring himself to. She'd felt his anger and hurt all too well and had been infected with it herself. When they'd first started this quest for vengeance, all she'd been able to think about was getting the Slayer and making her pay. But now that they knew more and after Faith's phone call, things were more complicated.   
  
And she still had a million questions. Not to mention *her* overwhelming feeling that feeding Wes to a Hecklaar demon might be fun to watch. Just a little bit.  
  
"Yeah. I was. But that still doesn't mean I'm not seriously pissed at him. I'm not -quite- ready to forgive him for what he did." Angel said, voice muffled by the blanket.  
  
"He understands that." They went silent for a moment as Cordelia watched the sun go down. As soon as the last ray slipped below the horizon, she tapped Angel on the top of the head and he promptly threw the blanket off.   
  
"We're here." She said, turning off of 40 and heading into the rest stop parking lot. The only other car in the lot was a dusty Chevy Malibu and she pulled up next to it.   
  
"What the fuck?" Angel breathed next to her, eyes blazing as he looked across her down into the Malibu. Her mouth dropped open and she found she was speechless.   
  
  
******************  
  
Wesley woke with a warm strip of sunlight across his shoulder, dried blood itching on his cheek and the weight of something crushed into his arms. He opened one crusty eye and stared down into the pale face resting against his chest, her mouth parted artfully as she slept in the too warm car. He couldn't help but smile, one eye on the setting sun. It'd be night in a few minutes.   
  
Brushing a weary thumb against her cheek, he wondered when his world had turned so completely wrong, yet so completely right. It was mind-boggling and yet, he couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd do without her. She was his rock now; the one he'd needed for so long to give him a swift kick in the ass and tell him to stop being such a prat.   
  
Driving back to Los Angeles the night before he'd told her to shut up while he talked. He had needed to tell her something that had been painful to him and he didn't want her to interrupt, or he'd lose the courage to say it, but it was something that needed to be said. He'd told her about Billy and that long-buried hatred he had in him, well all men had in them. When he was done, she'd turned sober eyes to him and shrugged.  
  
"And? It wasn't your fault you were born with a dick. You think there isn't a female Billy walking around infecting women and hating men? I knew plenty of bitches like that in the pen. Of course, most of them had a reason. Don't sweat it." She'd told him, leaning her head back against the seat, fingers clenched around his. He tried to talk to her more, but she wouldn't hear anything else he had to say on the subject. So he dropped the subject and turned to other things not said.  
  
When he'd pressed her about prison; she'd gotten really quiet and stares off into space, like the recent memory was too painful for her deal with. It had hurt him to see that dark, throbbing pain in her eyes as she thought. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her that much closer to him.   
"Mmmrpph.." She suddenly muttered, shaking her head and her eyes flitted open, then slammed shut a second later. "Too fucking bright..."  
  
"The sun is down. It's just the parking lot lights."  
  
"No shit." She asked, shaking her head and leaning away from him, the shirt sticking to his skin from where she'd lain on him all day. She righted herself and flipped the visor down, squinting into the mirror at her bleary eyes.   
  
He was silent for a moment as he stared at her, blue eyes far away. "Was it bad?"  
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Prison."   
  
"Oh. Yeah it was." Faith said, that shadow crossing back over her face and the spark in her eyes dimming. "And I'm probably going back as soon as Asshole Rob finds out I'm back. I violated my parole, ya know."  
  
"Yes, I know. I...I was thinking about that. There must be something I could do..." His voice trailed off and he rubbed his stubbled chin with one long finger.   
  
"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal." Faith said, lip trembling and hope springing in her eyes; it was odd how easily he could read her now, when he couldn't before.   
  
"Yes it is. And....I don't want you to go back. I want you...out." He shifted on the seat and wiped sweat away from his neck with the palm of his hand. She turned to him and smiled, the hurt dimming and the spark of fire coming back to her eyes.   
  
"I do too...but...it's all about destiny. And I have a feeling a murdering bitch like me is destined to be locked away. Just the way it is." She shrugged, the smile making light of her words. He saw the movement of something large and rusty out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it and reached for her.   
  
"I don't believe that." He said simply, taking her hand in his own and pulling her toward him. Her lips grazed his and he kissed her deeply, hands pushing back into the pile of sweaty hair tangled at her neck. He pulled away a moment later and smiled into her eyes. "You won't go back. I won't let you."  
  
"I know you won't." She said softly, reaching for him again. She nipped his lower lip and then a devilish smile crossed her lips. "Hi."  
  
Wesley followed her line of sight and blanched as Angel and Cordelia stared at them from Gunn's truck. Cordelia's mouth was open wide, her hazel eyes bulging at the scene before her. Angel was staring at him, looking straight at him for the first time in a month. Wesley almost wished he wouldn't, when he saw the rage in his dark orbs.   
  
"Hello." He choked out, keeping his hold on the Slayer and his mouth turning into a grim smile. Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, but then a piercing shriek cut the air and something red and massive slammed down on the roof of the Malibu, crushing in the roof.  
  
*****************  
  
The back of his head throbbed and he felt dried blood crackle on his neck as he moved. Tightly wound chains encircled his wrists and bit into his flesh. Gunn cursed a blue streak under his breath and stared into the darkness of the hotel lobby.   
  
He heard a moan and knew it was Lorne, even though he couldn't see him. "Lorne?"  
  
"Gunn? You're awake!" Came the demon's pain-filled reply from just behind him.   
  
"Yeah. Where's Fred?"   
  
"Over here! Charles, I was so worried!" Fred's anxious voice came from the shadows near the front desk and he squinted to make her out through the fog in his brain.   
  
"Baby, are you okay?" Gunn asked, trying to shift position and finding that the chains were wrapped all the way around his body, binding him to the floor like a roped calf.   
  
"I'm fine. There's something in here...." She answered, her voice trembling as she looked around for that something, the chains binding her biting into the soft, white flesh on her arms.   
  
"And whatever she is, she's mightily pissed, amigo." Lorne said, chains rattling as the green demon shifted on the floor.   
  
"What does she want?" Gunn asked, trying to break the chains about his wrists, but he didn't even budge them. A grunt escaped his lips and he lay back down on the floor.   
  
"I don't know. All I got was the word prize when I read her." Lorne answered, red eyes shining in the darkness.   
  
"Fred? What did Angel say those demons following Wes looked like?" A moment of silence as the girl's mind whirred into action and then she answered him in a matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"That they all had tattoos on their faces of crescent moons and they were females. Lorne, did you see a tattoo?"   
  
"I didn't get a look at her, just felt her aura for a second before she slammed it shut on me. Whatever she is, she's powerful." Lorne answered in an apologetic tone.  
  
"Yes I am." A child-like voice rang through the lobby, echoing off the walls and chiming in their ears. Fred wished she could have moved her hands to block the sound from her ears, but she suffered on the floor.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Gunn asked, searching through the lobby and finding nothing but a darker shape amongst the shadows.   
  
A spine-tingling giggle sounded from the corner and bounced off the walls. "Shh...you'll see."   
  
Lorne reached for the demon's aura once more, but a blast of something cold and hard slammed into his mind. He moaned and lost his grip on consciousness.  
  
"Told him to wait." The petulant voice of a child said from the shadows and then that cold hardness slammed into Gunn's mind. He heard Fred moan at the same time and knew she was getting hit with it too.   
  
"Angel...." Gunn moaned before he slipped into darkness once more.  
  
*************** 


	20. Falling to Earth

Running For Our Lives  
-------------------------  
  
Chapter 20: Falling to Earth  
  
  
"Fuck!!" Faith screamed, ducking as the roof of the Malibu caved in, clipping her scalp and sending a jolt of pain through her head. Beside her Wesley ducked low and opened the door, diving out of it and into the parking lot.   
  
She followed his example and dived out on her side, hitting the pavement at a roll. She came up on her feet and glared at the demon on the roof. Her eyes widened when she saw the thing perched atop the car.  
  
She looked like a featherless gryphon, vieny wings spread wide in a clear statement of her challenge, human breasts bare as she breathed hard and her short tail whipping the air. Her eyes were gold and stood out in the mottled red skin and they looked at her shrewdly, as if there was much more intelligence behind the eyes than you would think by looking at her. Faith caught the stark black tattoo over the golden eyes and cursed under her breath.   
  
"Faith!" Wesley called, climbing to his feet as Cordelia and Angel jumped out of the truck. Cordelia ran to the bed of the truck and slid out two swords, tossing one to Angel and one to Wesley. "Orin!" The Watcher screamed the name as it flashed across his memory.  
  
"Wes! No!" She said, waving her arms and distracting the demon as she leapt off the truck, taloned hands clawing the air where Wesley had been as he slid out of the way. She turned her attention on Faith and hissed, beak clacking.  
  
"Ssslayer!"   
  
"You got me! And now what are you going to do with me, huh? Your sisters sure as hell had a hard time deciding and they ended up with a serious case of dead." Faith said, taunting the demon and keeping her eye on the two men behind the thing. She saw Cordelia slide two axes out of the bed of the truck and heft one her way, waiting for the opportunity to throw it to her.   
  
"Sssso?" Orin hissed, her anger taking away her ability to speak clearly. A growl rumbled her chest and her wings beat the air, sending the smell of rotten meat toward Faith. A moment later the demon leapt at her, claws extended, sharp beak open and ready to gore her.  
  
"Cordelia!" Faith held up her hand and the Seer threw the axe at her, praying her aim was good.   
  
Faith jumped up, muscles uncoiling and her fingers wrapping around the leather wrapped handle, just in time to bring it arching down at the sister before her. The edge of the blade caught her on the arm and sticky brown blood oozed from the wound. The demon wailed and swiped at Faith, cuffing her on the ear and knocking her backward.  
  
Angel and Wesley rushed in, blades extended and flashing in the overhead parking lights. Cordelia circled them and helped Faith to her feet. "Wesley!" Faith shouted as soon as she was on her feet again. Cordelia pulled her back just as the demon's tail swiped at the air where she would have been.   
  
With a wrench, Faith pulled out of Cordelia's grip and dived back into the fray. "You're welcome." Cordelia muttered and dived after her, axe held aloft.   
  
Angel ducked another blow from the demon's talons, sword swinging and slicking off a finger. Blood sprayed in the air and he smiled widely, then swung the sword again. Yowling in pain, the demon jumped out of the way and went for the human next to the vampire, sharp talons catching him on the shoulder before he brought the sword slamming into her beak. A deep scratch on the red, hard flesh made her scream and kick out with her short legs. The human flew backward and slammed into the crushed car.  
  
"Listen here, bitch! No one fucks with my Watcher!" Faith said, leaping onto the demon's back and hooking her feet around the wings. The demon wailed again as the blade of her axe was pressed to the smooth red throat.   
  
"Faith! Watch out!" Cordelia called as the tail slammed into the Slayer's legs and nearly knocked her off. A luck swing with Cordy's axe and the tail was broken in two, bloody stump oozing brown blood everywhere. Orin looked back and shot out her leg, catching the Seer and sending her reeling into the pavement, the axe skittering across the lot.   
  
"Cordy!" Angel screamed and swiped again at the demon, narrowly missing Wesley as the Watcher rushed forward and dived at the huge demon's middle. Orin screamed and thrashed at the human around her middle. "Wes! Move!"  
  
Wesley ignored him and jerked his sword back and then buried it between Orin's ribs. The demon doubled over, Faith still clinging to her thick neck and trying to bring her axe up for a killing blow. Orin swiped at Wesley and he went flying, landing on the roof of the truck and falling off the other side.   
  
Angel saw him go and rammed his sword next to the Watcher's, feeling it hit something vital and scrape against bone. The demon reared up and launched herself in the sky, the Slayer still clinging to her neck. Cordelia, on her feet now, swung the axe again and clipped the demon's toes as she flew off.   
  
"Shit! Faith! Let go!" Cordy screamed as the demon pumped her wings harder, sending the Slayer and herself higher up in the sky. Blood rained down at them from the wounds they'd inflicted, but the demon was obviously made of stronger stuff than she looked.   
  
Atop Orin's back, Faith clung with her nails, eyes wide as she saw the world fading away to a black dot below her. "Listen up bitch. Bring us down or I'm going to slit your throat right here."  
  
"Kill ussss both?" Orin hissed, her wings pumping as she spiraled up higher in the black sky.   
  
"Shit." Faith muttered and thought of a better plan. "Fine. I guess I'll just have to take control of this crazy train."   
  
With that, she leveled herself up, booted feet pressing down on the demon's wings, all the power in her legs folding the demon's wings up against her body. With a wrench, Faith grabbed the huge head in her hands and forced her hands over the golden eyes. Wings folded and blinded, Orin reacted just like any bird would; she plummetted to earth, the wind cupping them as they shot downward.   
  
Faith held on and hoped she hadn't just killed herself. And she hoped Angel knew how to catch.  
  
****************  
  
"When did you last see her?" Quentin Travers asked the dirty man before him, his nose wrinkled against the offensive odor of the Slayer's hovel.   
  
"About five days ago, I think. I was going to wait a week before I turned her in, ya know?" Rob answered him, red-rimmed eyes liquid as he looked with some confusion at the Council of Watchers gathered around him. "Bout four days ago this big guy and this hot chick came looking for her. Angel, he said his name was, I think."  
  
"The vampire. Do you think he'll be a problem?" Patil asked, his dark eyes gazing out at Travers.  
  
"He always is. That must have been who Connelly was contacting. Either that or Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, although I would be surprised if he would be willing to help her, considering their past." Lydia clipped in a rushed voice, always eager to be the first with information.   
  
"Mr. Wyndham-Pryce is a strange man, with strange loyalties; I would not put it past him to do the opposite of what is expected of him. No matter why the vampire with the soul is looking for her, she won't get far." Travers said in his gravelly voice, sharp green eyes sweeping the room and settling back on the dirty American before him. Rob shifted uncomfortably under that icy gaze.  
  
"She won't get far with the Sister's after her." Patil said, patented sneer claiming his features and making him look like a jackal.   
  
"I'm losing faith in the Five, dear Armand. Three are dead as we speak and Lian has stopped her pursuit of the Slayer. Our hopes hinge on Orin and her intelligence is reputedly dim. No, I'm afraid we'll have to track the Slayer oursselves and make her pay for her crimes."  
  
"Good." Patil said, bloodthirsty glint in his eyes. Travers grunted and looked over at the probation officer, his nose wrinkling in disdain once more.   
  
"If Faith comes back, ring this number. And if you keep her disappearance a secret a while longer, you'll receive a hefty reward." Travers said, pulling out a fat wad of dollars and flashing them at the man. His eyes got wide and he shook his head, nasty tongue darting out and licking his thin lips.   
  
"Sure. Half now, half later?"   
  
"Of course." Travers handed him half the cash and then turned on his heel, beckoning his fellow Watcher's to follow him.   
  
Rob looked donw at the card and the money in his hands and then glanced up as the Watcher's swept out of the room. Whoever Faith had been before prison, someone hadn't forgotten about her. He smiled and pocketed the cash, realizing it was more money than he made in a week. Fuck, for that kinda cash, he'd sell out his grandma.  
  
But what the hell was a Slayer? And did they mention vampires? Rob shook his head and lit a cigarette. "Weirdos..."   
  
******************  
  
Angel looked up, his eyes much keener in the darkness than the two humans beside him. "Do you see her?" Wesley asked in a tense voice, his hands wrapped around the pommel of the blade and his eyes bulging.   
  
Angel looked over at the former boss of Angel Investigations and shook his head, his fists clenching and unclenching as he searched the sky. Suddenly a ear-splitting shriek filled the sky and Angel picked out something red and fast pelting out of the sky.   
  
"Fuck! They're going to hit!" Angel said, watching the Slayer growing closer and closer with each moment, the huge demon's wings folded into her sides and her yellow eyes covered by the Slayer's hands.  
  
"Faith!" Wesley screamed in a strangled voice, his eyes bulging and his breath hitching in his throat. Cordelia's gaze flickered over at him sharply before she turned her attention back to the pair in the sky.   
  
"Angel!" Faith's voice was wrapped around the wind and it assaulted his ears, sparking him into movement and knowing immediately what the girl had planned. He steeled himself and ran under her, feeling like a clown at a circus holding a sheet, but knowing it was much more serious than that. And this was going to hurt....  
  
Through the darkness, he saw Faith launch herself off Orin's back and plummet toward him, dark hair streaming around her terrified face. Time slowed and he was vaguely aware of Orin's wings flaring and catching the wind, but not in time to stop her from crashing into the Malibu once more. A second later, he plucked Faith out of the sky, his knees buckling with her weight and his body slamming into the pavement, ribs cracking under her weight.   
  
They rolled several feet, the wind rushing out of Faith's lungs and her head slamming against the pavement with a sickening crack. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell into darkness.  
  
"Angel!"  
  
"Faith!"   
  
Cordelia, eyes so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of her head, was the first of the two to rush forward. She fell to her knees beside the motionless Angel and pulled him off the unconscious Slayer, his head lolling back.   
  
"Angel...Angel are you okay?" She hit his cheek with the palm of her hand twice before his eyes flitted open and he groaned in pain. "Oh thank God!"  
  
"Is she okay?" Angel said, looking over at the fallen Slayer. He watched as Wesley sank down beside her and pulled her head into his lap, fingers brushing against her cheeks and tears forming in his eyes.   
  
"Don't leave me. Faith! Come back!" His voice was pathetic and child-like as he petted her cheek and rocked her in his lap. Cordelia exchanged a glance with Angel, confusion plain in her eyes. What the hell had happened the past couple of days?  
  
"Wesley! She's okay...she's just knocked out. Come on...." Cordelia moved into action, tugging at the Watcher's arm as Angel picked the girl up. Wesley stood and took hold of Faith's limp hand and walking along beside Angel, his eyes glued to the Slayer's face.   
  
Cordelia swung the passenger side door of the truck open and Wesley slid in, reaching out to take the the girl from him. Angel placed her on his lap and watched as Wesley cradled her head as tenderly as he might a child. He opened his mouth to say something, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he saw Orin stirring, talons scraping the air as she tried to move off the crushed Malibu.  
  
"Uh...demon's alive!" Cordelia said, tugging on Angel's sleeve. "Kill it?"  
  
"No time...we gotta get her to a hospital." Angel said, rounding the car and opening the door. Cordelia climbed in and he followed, squeezing into the space left and tearing out of the parking lot as fast as he could go. He pointed the truck toward L.A. and slammed the pedal to the floorboard, glancing every two seconds over at Wesley, who was still holding onto Faith like she was his world.  
  
Suddenly, the Slayer's dark brown orbs flitted open and she gazed up at Wesley, a ghostly smile crossing her lips. "That was wicked cool." A beat and then her eyes rolled up in her head again and her head slumped on his shoulder. Wesley laughed, worry still glinting in his eyes, and pressed his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. Cordelia watched the exchange with a wide eyes.  
  
What the hell had happened between the two of them?  
  
***************** 


	21. Ranting and Reasoning

Running For Our Lives  
--------------------------  
  
A/N: Someone e-mailed me and asked me where I got the name for this fic from. Besides the obvious answer, it's from the song "Running For Our Lives" by Marianne Faithful. Awesome song and it totally fits this story. :) Anyhoo..on with the story!  
  
****************  
  
Chapter 21: Ranting and Reasoning  
  
Randy Curtis had seen a lot of things in his day, including an honest-to-God geek show at the carnival. He'd seen some weird things there, a wolfman, a bearded woman and a pickled punk to name his personal favorites. But that wolfman was nothing compared to what he was looking at now.  
  
It was mottled red and huge. His eyes trailed over the viened wings and beak, the short, powerful legs and the slit of one glittering golden eye. Brown blood splattered it's tough hide and was crusted at the edges of the various wounds on it's body. Two swords were buried in it's-no, her, Randy noted as he saw the breasts-middle. Whatever it was, it wasn't human and it was a damn sight freakier than that geek show back in Abilene.   
  
His gun in his hands, Randy hopped down from the cab of his semi and approached her, boots scuffing along the ground and his eyes casting about the deserted rest stop. He squinted through the scope of the rifle and lined up her head, wondering if it was alive or not. Whatever it was, it stank to high heaven, making his eyes water so that he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve before lining it up in his sights again.  
  
Approaching slowly, he extended the barrel of the rifle and jabbed it at the leg flung over the side of the crushed car. That manly part of him that was still thinking mourned the loss of the car below her; the thing had obviously been cherry before meeting it's end. The muscle under the end of the gun was limp, soft and unmoving and Randy sighed in relief.   
  
Whatever it was, it was dead. Randy, lowered his rifle and gulped, wondering what the hell it was and how much would the Feds pay for the damned thing.   
  
"Whatever the hell you are, you ugly little bitch, you're gonna make me rich." He said, smiling crookedly and rubbing at his bearded chin with one fist. Money and thoughts of fame were swimming in his head when he saw something moving and his head jerked up.   
  
Two seconds later, his head was jerked off it's perch and cracked between two powerful jaws, glittering golden eyes flashing as the demon attacked.   
  
Orin watched the body fall to the ground, blood fountaining from the stump of it's neck. She chewed once, bone splintering in her scarred beak and bits of pulpy matter and juices squirting down her parched throat. A swallow and she attacked the twitching body, splitting the human's belly open and plunging her head inside.   
  
A sound, a horrified cough, and she looked up, a high pitched squeal ready on her lips. Another human ran from her, back to his vehicle and out of her line of sight before she could muster enough strength to follow. She went back to her kill and let her mind narrow on her target once more.  
  
A meal to give her energy and she'd be back on her trail. A searing pain shot through her stomach, spiderwebbing out from both wounds. She looked down at her middle and blinked stupidly at the twin swords buried in her chest. With a high, painful keen, she pulled them both out and let them clatter the ground. Blood flowed freely from the wounds and she wavered on her clawed feet.   
  
No, she could not let herself die, not yet. She would continue until she had nothing left to give and even now she felt stronger, the taste of human in her throat and her belly full. Another mouthful and she launched herself up in the air, talons slicing the wind in half and her golden eyes glittering with rage.   
  
She caught the Slayer's scent on the breeze and followed it toward Los Angeles.  
  
******************  
  
"How is she?" Wesley asked as soon as the nurse came into view. The plump woman, full of patience, placed her hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the waiting room once more.  
  
"The doctor says she's fine. You can see her in a few minutes. Until then, sit down and relax, or you'll pop those stitches." She said in a soothing voice and then turned on her heel and went back to her station behind the front desk.   
  
Wesley sighed and turned back to the waiting room, his eyes squinting in the too-bright lights and his hands twitching. Cordelia looked up at him as he walked in front of her, knees drawn up and her chin resting on her hands. She eyed the stitch on Wesley's chin and the bandage on his temple. His face was bruised and his hands were still slightly bloody from the fight. Cordelia shook her head and wondered just how much the man was going to be able to take before there wasn't anyplace on him that wasn't scarred.   
  
"You look like shit." She commented, eyebrows drawn up in concern, but a spark of anger in her voice.   
  
"Well, it's been an interesting week." Wesley said, glancing over at her as he collapsed heavily in the plastic chair, muscles groaning in pain. He flinched and rolled his shoulders, hoping to ease the tension in them.   
  
Cordelia's mind wandered back to the ride to the hospital and she frowned. They hadn't been able to get anything out of either of them, Faith being all comatose and Wesley hovering over her like a mother hen with it's last egg. A million questions she'd had before the chase had only been more frustrated as she'd watched them. Now, Angel had gone to call the others and had left them alone for the first time and she wanted answers.  
  
"Looks like it. So....what's up with you and Faith?" She turned her eyes on him and he could see there wasn't any teasing in them. Better tell her the truth or he had a feeling she'd know he wasn't being honest to her. Damn.  
  
"Honestly? I don't know. We....she's so alone in the world. She needed me and I...I needed her." He rubbed his stubbled chin and his eyes went far away for a moment as he remembered her smile.   
  
"Uh? That's not what I meant." Cordelia said, eyes slightly wide and the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. "I meant, why the hell did you two take off and not tell us?"  
  
"Oh." Wesley muttered, mouth set in a grim line for a moment before he answered the Seer. "It was none of your business, frankly. Angel had other worries and let's face it, I wasn't one of them."  
  
Cordelia stared at him for a moment and then she moved closer to him, voice quiet. "Wesley? Can I ask you a question?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is your head up your ass for the warmth?!" Cordy shouted, teeth gritted in anger.  
  
"What?" He looked over at her and saw the anger, saw the hurt in her eyes. "I..."  
  
"Listen up, cuz I'm going to have a rant and I'd hate to repeat myself. Angel and I went after Faith because we thought she killed you. Do you know how...how hurt we were? I was ready to kill Faith for what she did--thought she did. Then we found out you weren't dead and I was still worried to death that she was hurting you or doing what she did last time. We followed you to the Grand fucking Canyon because it was our business. OUR business, Wesley. We're family, no matter what we do to each other, we're family. Which is the very reason Angel hasn't ripped your head off for doing what you did. Not to mention this thing with Faith!"  
  
"Cordy..." He started to say, sagging in the plastic chair, her words sinking in.  
  
"Still ranting here!" She growled and continued, throwing him a quelling glare. "The very least you could have done would have been to call! Tell us what the fuck was going on and asked for help with the Five or whoever! You're a frighteningly intelligent man, Wes, but sometimes you can be such a dumbass. You'd think you'd have learned not to keep secrets from us by now, but noooo! You have to go all road trippy with insane-o Slayer in there and don't even get me started on how fucked up that is!"   
  
She threw up her hands and drew in a deep lungful of air, then stared at him. He blinked stupidly and ran a distracted hand over the scar on his throat. "You're right. I was being a prat and I endangered you and Angel. And Faith. I failed again, big surprise."   
  
"You didn't fail; we're all still alive aren't we?" She offered, her anger draining down her spine now that her diatribe was over. "You just messed up a little." He nodded, lost in his own thoughts for a moment or two before he spoke again.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
"Still pissed and not likely to let you forget that fact. But he knows you didn't mean to do what you did, although this little fiasco probably hasn't instilled much faith for you in him."  
  
"Probably not. Do you think I could....try to make things right?"   
  
"Why don't you ask him yourself? I'm through playing the middle man." She gestured to the doorway behind Wesley, where Angel had been standing the entire time. His brooding features were cast into shadow as he stood there, watching the two people closest to him talk.   
  
"No one was picking up when I called the hotel." Angel said in a stilted voice, his mouth set in a grim line. Cordelia got up and frowned, chewing her lip as she thought.  
  
"You don't think they went after us, do you?" She asked, running a hand through her unwashed hair.  
  
"Don't know. Maybe they're all asleep....you want to try them again?" Angel said, his eyes connecting with hers and asking her without words to leave the two of them alone. She nodded and squeezed past him, her hand pressing briefly in his palm as she went.   
  
"Angel.." Wesley started, but Angel's gaze stopped him in mid-sentence.  
  
"Don't. There is nothing you can say that can make this okay. You lied to me. You didn't trust me. You betrayed me. And you endangered her life and yours." Angel spat, eyes flashing.  
  
"I know. I..."  
  
"You made a mistake. Several mistakes." Angel fisted his hands at his side, glaring at him before his gaze softened. "But you're only human and I know that. For what it's worth I'm not going to kill you and I'm not going to fire you. We're not okay on any terms. But we're family, like Cordy said and....and if you help me get my son back, then we'll think about making things right."   
  
"Of course." Wesley said, his gaze falling on his shoes in a gesture of obedience he had picked up from his childhood. He swallowed hard as his father's voice echoed in his mind, sounding strangely like Angel to his ears.   
  
"How is she?" Angel asked, tone lighter as he gestured to the doorway. Wesley looked up and frowned, his eyes clouded with shame for a moment before he sighed heavily.   
  
"The nurse said she was fine. Maybe I should..." He started to say as the doctor peaked his head into the room.   
  
"Hi! I'm Dr. Klause. Which one of you is a Mr. Angel?" He asked, kind brown eyes smiling, his voice taking on that soothing quality most doctors over-abused. Angel raised his hand a bit, brow furrowed as he looked at the doctor. "Faith wanted to see you. Follow me."   
  
"Could I..?" Wesley asked, swallowing hard and watching as the doctor turned to him.  
  
"She told me not to let you in. I'm sorry, you'll have to stay here." With that, he turned on his heel and gestured for Angel to follow him.   
  
Wesley's heart sank to his knees and he collapsed in the plastic chair once more. She wanted to see Angel and not him. Jealously reared it's ugly head and breathed down his neck, making his skin prickle with anger. He clenched his jaw and fought the urge not to run after him and knock his smug head off his shoulders. Instead, he put his hands in his head and concentrated on things that had nothing to do with her and him.   
  
That tactic lasted about five seconds before visions of her in his arms flooded his mind. He squared his shoulders and resolved to see her, no matter what.  
  
***********************  
  
"Hey." Faith said as soon as he entered the room. She was standing, the side of her head bandaged and the blood cleaned off her face where it had been caked on her skin.   
  
"Hi." Angel responded, standing somewhat ackwardly in the doorway, his weight shifting from foot to foot.   
  
"Good catch." She commented, turning an appraising eye on him as she pulled on a black combat boot.   
  
"Thanks. Uh...why did you want to see me?" Angel asked, his eyes slightly wide as he took in her battered appearance. She stopped in mid-pull and smiled at him.   
  
"Never one to beat around the bush."  
  
"Always one to beat the bush to death. What's going on Faith?" He frowned at her, wishing he could read her as well as he used to. She had changed, no doubt about it and in ways he didn't quite grasp.  
  
"I need you to tell Wesley I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry? Why?"  
  
"Sorry for...getting him into this. And sorry that I'm leaving."   
  
"Leaving? What do you mean?" Angel grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.  
  
"I...the Five--Two--are still after me and I don't want....I couldn't handle it if he got hurt again."   
  
"And where are you going to go?" Angel prompted, eyes boring into hers.   
  
"Dunno. I've been to Vegas and the Grand Canyon, I think I'll see what Disneyland is like!" She retorted sarcastically and ripping herself out of his grip.   
  
"You can't outrun them, you know that!" Angel reached for her again, wrists crushed in his hands.  
  
"I do know that, Angel. But at least they won't be anywhere near him." She shook her head, face paling as she remembered the thing behind Wesley's eyes.   
  
"You leave and he'll follow you, I can already tell you that. All you're going to do is get yourself killed and that's going to hurt him more than even he knows. Stay and we'll all fight together." Angel shook her, trying to hammer sense into that brain behind her brown eyes.   
  
"And get you all killed too? Do you want Cordy to get killed because of me? Could you stand it if she was in the line of fire because someone was after you? Wouldn't you run away to keep her safe?" Faith hit a nerve and she knew it as she saw the realization blossoming in his eyes.   
  
"He even tried it and I'd kill him for being an idiot." Cordelia's voice was soft, but dripping with anger as she stepped into the room. "And you, Miss I'm-a-Slayer-everything-I-do-is-right, I don't like you much, big surprise. But Wesley does and you need our help. You're staying and that's that."  
  
"She always this bossy?" Faith asked Angel, glancing over at the tall vampire, his eyes soft as he looked at his Seer.   
  
"I wouldn't have her any other way." He said, a ghost of a smile haunting his features. "So you'll stay?"  
  
"She damn well better." Wesley said in a growl, his tall frame blocking out the light from the hallway. Hurt was flashing in his eyes as he looked at Faith, and only Faith; she flinched as she met the hurt in those eyes.  
  
"Uh...we'll just..." Cordelia grabbed Angel by the arm and pulled him into the hallway, leaving the two of them alone. Silence stretched as they each reached for something to say.   
  
"How's your head?" Wesley finally asked, stepping close to her and brushing his fingertips along her forehead.   
  
"Doc says I'm okay and that I heal quickly. At least I didn't end up in a coma this time." She smiled again, capturing his hand in her own and holding onto it. "You?"  
  
"Never better. You were leaving?" She flinched at his bluntess and looked down at their linked hands, a lump forming in her throat.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Why?" One word, so full of hurt that it was like needles in her skin. She took a deep breath and looked back up into her Watcher's eyes, wishing she could drown in the ocean of him.   
  
"Because I didn't want you to get hurt. Because I was scared...."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Us." The word hung heavy in the air and she felt his hand tighten around hers.   
  
"You don't have to be afraid. At least not of me. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you, love." He said forcefully, wrapping his free arm around her waist. She smiled and looked up at him.   
  
"Why do you call me that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Love."  
  
"It feels right, I guess."   
  
"Yeah, I guess it does." She mumbled, her lips touching his for a brief moment before something large and red crashed through the window and knocked them both into the wall.   
  
**************** 


	22. One to Go

Running For Our Lives  
------------------------  
  
  
A/N: Just wanted to say that this chapter was written by a sleepy, sleepy person who refuses to go to bed before she reads the Angel Wildfeed. I'm so dedicated. And pathetic. :)  
  
  
******************  
  
Chapter 22: One to Go  
  
"Did you get ahold of them?" Angel asked her as soon as they were down the hallway from the emergency room Faith and Wesley were in.   
  
"No. You don't think something is wrong do you?" Cordelia said, chewing on her lower lip and slipping her arm through his. Despite his worry, he felt a smile tug his mouth at her contact.   
  
"Maybe. We should get Faith and Wesley and go check it out. If something---" He stopped as Cordelia's grip on his arm tightened, her posture rigid. "Cordy?"  
  
"Vision!" She forced through gritted teeth, her eyes wide as images flashed across her mind's eye. "Oh God...."  
  
"What?" Angel pressed her, glancing around the hallway and making sure no one noticed them. Her lip trembled for a second before she snapped back to reality.   
  
"Wes!" Cordy breathed, snatching her arm out of his hand and tearing off down the hallway. Angel followed a second later, crashing back into the room amidst a flurry of red skin and glass.   
  
**************  
  
"They're coming!" The cold voice said, full of icicles and frostbite. Gunn shivered, wishing he was still unconscious so he couldn't hear the unnaturalness of a child trapped in a demon's body. "They're coming and we're going to play!"  
  
"Hope you like to play war cuz I got a feeling you're going to get one when they get here." Gunn said, his burning eyes glaring into the shadows, his head aching.  
  
"Shh. You're being mean again!"   
  
"Damn straight I am!" He growled, moving in his chains and hearing them clink against the floor.   
"Charles, don't!" Fred pleaded with him, eyes round as she squirmed on the floor. Lorne moaned, still unconscious after having been hit with more than one blast of the demon's special brand of cold energy. Obviously she didn't want to be read.   
  
"Yes. Don't or I'll make you scream like Orin. Painful screams and they won't be fun."   
  
"Whatever." Gunn muttered, his very nature as a man of action rubbed raw by the chains about his body. If he could have gotten up, the demon would have something fear, but as it was, he was stuck and there was no use trying to get himself knocked out again. Not when Fred and Lorne still needed him. "How close are they?"  
  
"Close. Shh....wait and you'll see. And then I'll get the prize and you'll all be dead!"   
  
Gunn shivered again and prayed that Angel and Cordelia were really coming. And soon.  
  
***************  
  
Faith slid down the wall, her hands flung over her face to protect herself from the flying glass. She blinked, clearing the haze from her vision and saw Orin rearing over her, bloody and terrible. Her glittering eyes glared down at her and Faith felt a creeping fear snake it's way up her spine.   
  
Beside her, Wesley moaned and blinked, his eyes going wide as he saw what was above him. Orin reared again, her claws swooping down to strike at him, but something small got in the way. Instead of goring Wesley, the demon knocked Cordelia out of the way, the Seer flying and hitting the wall before she knew what hit her.   
  
Angel followed right behind her and punched the demon's hard beak with his fist. Orin screeched loudly and threw out a wing to dislodge the vampire from her side. Angel dodged the wing and dived for Cordelia.   
  
The Seer sat up and shouted, "We have to go! Now!" Angel nodded and dived back toward the demon, distracting her with another well-placed blow to her middle, his fingers digging slightly in the sword wounds. Orin reered again and screeched, the ceiling trembling with the noise.   
  
Faith grabbed for Wesley and helped him up, seeing the blood flowing from between the stitch on his chin and feeling anger at herself and the demon behind her. Cordelia rushed past her and she she pushed Wesley toward the half-demon.   
  
"Go! We're right behind you!" Faith shouted and then turned, her booted heel finding the demon's middle just as Angel ducked another blow. Orin turned on her, eyes wide as the prize engaged her. A hawkish smile wreathed her horrible features as she opened her beak and lowered it to the Slayer's head.   
  
Her descent was stopped by a fist to her eye, the retina giving as the thumb proved stronger than the gelatinous orb. The golden eye popped like a grape and oozed out past Angel's fist. Orin screamed, her voice filled with mind-numbing pain.   
  
"Come on!" Angel said, grabbing for Faith as he ran toward the door. She resisted and motioned to the screaming demon. "We can't fight her here. Let's go!"  
  
A beat and then she was running with him, out of the hospital and down into the parking lot. Cordelia, behind the wheel of Gunn's truck, shouted at them to get in and they hopped into the bed of the truck. They tore out of the parking lot and swerved onto the street in front of the hospital just as Orin burst out of the hole she had made in the side of the building. Her wings caught the air and she soared over them, smelling the Slayer's scent on the wind and speeding in their direction.   
  
"Angel? You got anything I can use to throw at that bitch?" Faith asked, searching through the hidden stockpile of weapons in the back of the truck. He nodded and handed her a heavy crossbow with barbed arrowheads made of steel. "Nice...."  
  
Angel held her steady as she lifted the crossbow, her eyes squinting in the darkness as she tried to make out the red shape in the sky. Orin screeched again and she targeted the bleeding demon by sound. Her Slayer instincts took over and she moved in slow motion, aiming and pulling the trigger with deadly accuracy.   
  
A second later, she heard a screech as the bolt found a home in the demon's chest. Orin dropped lower in the sky, but still didn't crash to earth. Faith aimed again and fired another shot. It hit her in the leg, blood raining down on them from the wounds. Another shot was fired, but it went wide of the mark as Orin dodged it, her one good eye seeing the glint of metal in the sky in time. Two more shots missed too and Faith, disgusted, threw the crossbow down.   
  
Suddenly, the truck stopped and she looked up at the huge white building before her. "Faith!" Wesley screamed, running around the side of the truck and gesturing her to follow them. She did, hopping out of the back of the truck and pounding hard on his trail.   
  
Orin saw the Slayer running into the building and swooped, her wings folded as she dived behind her. The Slayer cleared the door just as the demon tumbled inside behind her, limbs flailing as she skidded on the marble floor and crashed into the gray sofa in the middle of the floor.   
  
Angel skidded to a halt beside the weapon's cabinet and pulled out an ax, tossing it to Faith and taking out his favorite broadsword. He turned back to the flailing demon and descended on her.   
  
"Sssslayer!" Orin gasped, lone eye rolling in it's socket as she tried and failed to get up. Cordelia and Wesley, swords in hand, came up behind Faith and Angel, lips curled in disdain.   
  
"So, who gets the honors?" Cordelia asked, smirking at the bleeding demon.   
  
"Me." Faith said, lifting her ax, a bloodthirsty smile on her lips.   
  
"Ssshe's here!" Orin hissed, her head jerking back to stare at the recesses of the lobby, breath rasping in her chest.   
  
Faith exchanged an odd glance with Angel and he shrugged. A beat, a swinging, deadly arch and Orin's head came away from her shoulders, dropping onto the floor in a pool of dark brown blood. Faith threw the ax down and stared at the great red body on the floor before her.   
  
"Well, four down." Wesley said, grabbing ahold of Faith's hand from behind, suddenly feeling a desperate need to touch her and reassure her that everything was alright. She squeezed his fingers and tore her eyes away from the dead sister. Suddenly, something tickled the edges of her senses and Faith wheeled to the shadows near the back of the lobby.   
  
"One to go." A child-like voice said as a mad giggle escaped her lips. Faith felt a chill creep up her spine, her heart freezing in her chest as she looked at the fifth and last sister.  
  
******************* 


	23. No Other Way

Running For Our Lives  
------------------------  
  
Chapter 23: No Other Way  
  
  
"Hello, my name is Lian." A child's voice, wrapped in ice, came from the shadows a moment before the fifth sister stepped out. Faith's eyes slitted, her teeth clenched, as she watched the tiny demon move.   
  
The body of a child, the voice of a child, but something inside it that wasn't quite right. There was a cruel twist to the lips, dimples pocking her cheeks as she smiled a deceptively sharp smile, and her eyes held a cold fire that drew Faith and repelled her at the same time. The skin, so pale she looked blue was only marked by the black crescent moon tattoo over her eye. Wesley's hand tightened in hers and she held on to him for a moment before stepping forward.  
  
"So? Come to finish the job your big sisters didn't, eh?" She asked, her hands spreading wide in invitation. "I'm not afraid of you."  
  
"You have brown eyes." Lian said, her head tilting as she looked the Slayer over. "I'm going to eat them."  
  
Faith started, horror blossoming in her at the jubilant violence in her voice. A swallow and she stepped backward, her back connecting with Wesley's chest. His warmth steadied her, thawed out the coldness looking at Lian induced.   
  
"Uh...I don't mean to break up this stand off....but where's Fred and Gunn?" Cordelia spoke up, her head swiveling around as if she were trying to find her coworkers in the shadows.   
  
"The mean one wouldn't shut up." Lian said, a pout on her lips. "So I made him cold and he was quiet."  
  
"Where are they?" Angel growled, stepping up beside Faith and glaring at the little demon with his hard yellow eyes, forehead ridged as his vamp face melted over his features.   
  
"No, no. I won't tell." She answered, finger to her lips.   
  
"If you've hurt them...." Wesley warned, his hands on Faith's shoulders. Lian turned her eyes on him and he felt the cold creeping up his legs.  
  
"You! I came here because of you. This is your family. Saris showed me." The cold eyes lit up as she eyed Wesley, that smile wrapped around her features once more. "Showed me what was inside your heart before she got hers ripped out."  
  
"Where are they?" Faith asked, stepping away from Wesley once more, the demon's words ripping her right to the core. These people Wesley had talked about, cared about, had been attacked because of her. People were hurt because of her. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the pain.  
  
"Shhh Slayer. Come with me and I'll give them back. All but that green one. He tried to read me and I ripped off his head. Didn't like him in my brain where no one's supposed to touch me."   
  
Cordelia exchanged a glance with Angel, filled with worry and relief. They were all still alive.  
  
"Come with you? She will not." Wesley said in a growl, his blue eyes flashing as he stepped between Faith and Lian.   
  
"Then I'll make you all cold and then kill you. And I'll get her anyway. You have a choice here, Watcher. I suggest you take it." Ice melted into her voice, no longer so child-like as that frightening intelligence shone through.   
  
"No." Wesley said, watching Faith out of the corner of his eyes. She was staring at the floor, thick brown blood creeping across the linoleum from Orin's dead body. She could see herself reflected in the blood and she gazed at herself.   
  
"Wesley..." She said slowly, tearing her gaze from the blood and looking back up at him. Her heart jolted as she watched the hurt and anger in his eyes. For her? Or the demon who dared try and hurt everything he loved? She didn't know.  
  
"Faith. No. We'll think of another way." He clipped, reaching for her, but she pulled away, her thoughts racing in circles.   
  
"There is no other way. My way or they all die." Again Lian's voice lost the childish tone and was full of cold fury. A gesture of her hand and something slid out of the shadows, chains rattling as they scraped against the floor.   
  
"Fred! Gunn!" Cordelia said, moving toward them, her sword raised. She got no closer than two steps before she was hit with a blast of freezing, brain melting power and dropped to the floor in a shivering heap. Angel slid across the bloody floor and scooped her up into his arms, a growl escaping his lips as he looked down into the fallen Seer's face. Her features were frozen into a scream, lips blue.   
  
"You fucking bitch!" Angel said, reaching for Cordelia's sword. Wesley stepped on the point of it and shook his head.   
  
"No. She'll only hit you with the same thing and we need you." He said, the mantle of leadership he'd gotten so used to the past year slipping easily back into place. This wasn't the time for violence. This sister was different; she wouldn't let them attack her physically and he knew it.   
  
"Need him for what? He's useless, just like you were as a Watcher." Lian smiled again, child-face slipping back into place once more. He whirled on her and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "You can't protect her. Just like you couldn't protect her from yourself."   
  
As she spoke, Fred was lifted off her feet and fell into the tiny demon's arms, her hair falling across her pale face in dark slashes. Her head lolled limply on her long neck and Wesley felt his heart lurch.   
  
"No! Leave her alone!" He said, his voice thick and his mind reeling in circles. Not Fred. She was too innocent, too helpless and she'd been hurt enough. Hurt by himself and countless others and he couldn't bear to see his friend like that. "Please..."  
  
Faith watched him, her eyes shifting back and forth between Fred and Wesley. She saw the worry in his eyes and the pain at the thought that the girl was going to be hurt. A memory replayed itself in her ears and she felt tears welling in her eyes.   
  
~You love her?~  
  
~Thought I did...~  
  
Faith came back to herself and blinked back a tear. She licked her lips once, her heart breaking. Then she swung her elbow back. It connected solidly with Wesley's nose and he stumbled backward, his eyes rolling up in his head before he fell to the ground, motionless.   
  
She stood for a moment, staring at her fallen Watcher and tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Angel stared wide-eyed at her, his fanged mouth opening as if he didn't know what to say to her.   
  
Lian giggled.   
  
Faith wheeled on her and snapped. "Put her down and let's go. We don't need these people anymore." She tried to push the emotion out of her heart, but it snuck in, making her voice thick. "Tell...tell him I lo...I'm sorry." She whispered, knowing Angel would hear it.   
  
"Faith, no..."  
  
"Let's go! Now!" She barked at the little sister, ignoring Angel's pleading voice as the vampire struggled to his feet and pushed Cordelia's body off his lap as gently as his speed would allow.  
  
Lian dropped Fred onto the floor immediately and reached for the Slayer, her tiny pale hand outstretched; Faith felt the cold long before her skin touched the demon's hand. As their flesh met, Faith jerked, and her breath spiraled out of her chest, coming out of her mouth in a frozen puff of breath that swirled away in the air. She felt the world spinning away from her as the demon's power filled her.   
  
"Faith!" Angel screamed, reaching for her.   
  
Too late. She disappeared in a blast of ice that sent Angel sprawling, tiny icicles puncturing his skin as he warded off the blast. A moment later he looked up and she was gone.  
  
***************  
  
Patil flipped his phone shut and nodded at Travers. The older man smiled and sat back against the plush cushions of the sofa. He looked out of the huge window of the hotel room, the lights of Los Angeles dimmed by the darkly tinted glass. Several of the gathered Watcher's followed his gaze and waited for him to speak.  
  
"This is a new day." He noted, taking a sip of champagne and running a hand over his bearded chin. A beat and then he said, "Call all the Watchers with Slayers-in-Waiting. We'll have a new Slayer within twenty-four hours and I want her profiled. Make sure the warlock's keep their connection to the power sources open in case an untrained girl gets Chosen. I don't want another mistake."  
  
"The plan?" Lydia asked, looking up from her scrawled notes, a pen between her teeth.   
  
"Off, but ring the Operatives and tell them to stay where they are. I still want them around for something else and in case something goes wrong." Travers replied, his mouth drawing up into a sarcastic smile.  
  
"You think it will?" Patil asked, his face dark with worry.   
  
"No, but with Faith, nothing is a sure thing."   
  
"And Wyndham-Pryce?" Patil asked, his bushy eyebrow arching at Travers. "That detective agency of his won't take this lightly, sir."  
  
"We'll kill them of course." Travers answered, taking another sip and swishing the golden liquid over his tongue.  
  
"But...sir...they work for the Powers." Lydia protested from her seat next to the window, the rim of her glasses glinting in the lamplight. "With Angelus...Angel, the vampire with the soul. We can't just..."  
  
"Just what?"  
  
"Just...we shouldn't...." She protested, fidgeting in her seat as she looked her superior over. The older man set his champagne down and smiled.  
  
"The Council does what it has to in order to protect the world from fiends like Faith. Angel should have been staked many years ago, but we have taken a stand of non-intervention in his case. No longer."  
  
"I know sir, but they're good people and Wesley was a Watcher. Angel is not like Faith..." Lydia protested, the pen clutched in her hand so hard her knuckles were white.   
  
"Wesley was a poor Watcher and a miserable choice to send to this wretched country. He's long shown his disloyalty to us by harboring Faith. He gets in my way, he dies along with Angel's people. And there's no Buffy Summer's here to save him now. We are the Watcher's Council, the highest Council and the only one that gives a fat damn about this miserable planet. We do what we think is right and this is right. There is no other way." Travers said, a power-mad glint in his eyes. Lydia was disturbed by that glint and she swallowed hard.   
  
"What *you* think is right..." She echoed, Andras Connelly's face flashing through her brain. "Of course sir."  
  
"I knew you'd see it my way.." Travers said, standing up and walking to the huge window, his breath steaming the glass before him. "Tell the Operatives we attack at noon tomorrow." Travers said, his eyes fixed on the neon vista before him.   
  
"Of course. I'll put the plan into action immediately." Patil said, jumping up and rushing into the adjacent room, his cellphone flipped open and pressed to his ear.   
  
"That will be all, everyone." Quentin said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand, his eyes still glued to the cityscape. The assembled Watchers stood as one and shuffled out the door. "And Lydia?"  
  
She stopped and looked fearfully back over her shoulder. "Yes sir?"  
  
"Do not defy me again. I have no qualms about making another example for the others to follow. You warn them and I'll kill you myself." Quentin said, looking back over his plump, rounded shoulder at her, that mad glint still in his eyes.   
  
Lydia trembled and shook her head, backing out of the room as fast as she could go. Connelly's blue eyes flashed before her and she remembered the body that had been brought back to the Council's mansion and burned, a bullet hole in it's head.   
  
He was going mad and taking them all with him.   
  
************** 


	24. Cold

Running For Our Lives  
-------------------------  
  
Chapter 24: Cold  
  
  
"How's the nose?" Cordelia's voice was strong, even as her hands shook, her skin still cold from the demon's touch.   
  
Wesley looked up, tears dried on his bruised face, great rivulets of blood spilling out his broken nose and down his chin. It hurt to breathe, but he dragged a sigh into his lungs and said, "She's gone."  
  
"I know." Cordelia sat down next to him, her hands not quite knowing what to do so she twisted them around the wet washrag in her hands.   
  
"She's dead." His voice was broken, that last bit of strength flowing out of him as he imagined her dead body, frozen or mangled or...a million things. His heart cracked in two and spilled out over his shoes as he broke down, not caring who saw him.   
  
Across the room, Angel hacked through the chains binding Gunn, letting the tall black man free. He stood, teeth chattering and his eyes on Wesley. Fred, already free and wrapped up in a the warmest blanket she could find, sidled up to him and wrapped the blanket around him. He clasped his arms around her as she burrowed against his chest, her eyes leaking tears as she watched Wesley breaking down.   
  
Angel ignored the Watcher and went searching for Lorne's body, his head giving him directions as he went. Even the flashy demon was subdued, despite his relief the demon hadn't known what would kill him. He caught the edges of Wesley's aura, the sobs singing through the viens that weren't attached to his mind, the colors nearly black and spiked with red.   
  
As the vampire placed his head on his shoulders, the jagged wound sealing immediately into smooth green flesh, Lorne reached out and plucked at the aura, delving into the depths of it, his red eyes intent on the man before him. He found the connection to the Slayer, throbbing and strong and not severed like it would have been had she been dead already.   
  
"She's not dead, bro." Lorne said, kneeling down before the broken man and shaking his head to clear the last remnants of the demon's power. Obviously the power worked much better on humans than demons, because he was recovering far quicker than the other three.   
  
"What?" Wesley looked up, sobs faltering for a moment, tears mingling with the blood on his chin to drip onto the floor.   
  
"You'd know if she was dead. Trust me. We'd all know." He decided now was not the time to get into the details; that would come later. Right now they needed to get Faith back and kill the little bitch who'd gotten the jump on all of them.   
  
"So, where is she? Where is she? I can...I can get her back and everything will be okay...and..." Wesley's eyes blazed; he swiped at his bloodied face and moving to stand, but Cordy pushed him back down.   
  
"You're not going anywhere, Wes. You're about to collapse on your feet." Cordelia said, her hand on his arm. He looked over at her and felt himself weave in the chair.   
  
"I.."  
  
"Rest for now. I know how to find her." Lorne said gently, his senses throbbing in time to the hurt in Wesley's soul. He needed to get away from the man for at least an hour, so he could clear his head of the last of the demon's affects and think straight.   
  
"But, I should come..."  
  
"But nothing, English." Gunn said, speaking up and moving out of the shadows, Fred walking with him. "I need some action to thaw out. Let's go." Lorne looked back over at him and nodded, his hand absently running through his short red hair as he walked to the door.   
  
Wesley watched them go, that panicked look still in his eyes as he stood wearily. "I need...to..."  
  
"Shower. And eat. And sleep. You're no good us if you're dead on your feet. No good to her." Cordelia said, steering him by the arm toward the stairs. The tall Englishman wavered once before Fred stepped in, supporting his other side. Together, the three of them moved up the stairs; Angel watched them go, a sword twisting in his hands as worry burned through him.   
  
He prayed Faith was alright. For her sake and Wesley's.   
  
**********  
  
Showered, his wounds bandaged and hot soup courtesy of Fred's microwaving skills in his empty belly, Wesley curled up on the bed in the guest bedroom. Sleep threatened his exhausted body, but he fought it off, Faith's eyes swimming before him. It felt odd not to be inches from her sleeping form, his back screaming because he crammed into the seat of the car.   
  
Now, in the luxury of a bed for the first time in a week, it felt wrong and he longed for her skin against his. He shuddered once and felt that oppressive shadow fall over him like it had the moment he'd woken up in the lobby with his face on fire with pain and Cordelia's shivering face before his.   
  
Sleep claimed him long before he wanted it to, his thoughts spiraling out of his body and into vapor, frozen in the air and ready to shatter. And he dreamed of her.  
  
*******************  
  
It was cold.  
  
She felt it all around her, numbing the edges, numbing the pain and sending jolts through her body as something else inside her froze. She felt like she was dying and she knew, from the giggles and the blasts of arctic breeze caressing her face like a knife edge, that Lian was near. She wondered why she couldn't open her eyes to see her.  
  
A lethargic twitch of her muscles and the eyelids crackled under the weight of a fine sheen of ice, tears having frozen in their tracks, binding her dark lashes to her skin. Struggling, she lifted one fluttering lid and gazed at the world around her. It was dark and the only light came from a flickering blue flame in the center of a vast room.   
  
Where was she? She didn't know and her tongue would not work, would not form consonants and vowels.   
  
Suddenly, Lian's big empty eyes appeared in front of her, blocking out the light of the blue flames and bringing with her a bitter chill, even more bitter than the one she was cloaked in.   
  
"Hello Faith."   
  
Faith grunted in her throat in response. She attempted to shift, stiff limbs screaming as she moved against the cold metal chains around her form.   
  
"You look unhappy? Is it that Watcher? You miss him?" Her held tilted, wispy blonde hair falling across the black tattoo on her face. "I miss my sisters."  
  
Faith managed to raise her eyebrow in response. Lian laughed and answered the obvious questioniong glare, her voice full of mirth.  
  
"No, I don't miss them. They were...not worthy of the power they possessed. I don't know why I ever soul bonded with them. But I was young back then and I didn't understand I might have to spend an eternity with them. Good thing you took care of that for me." The demon shrugged and touched Faith's forehead, sending a frosty shiver rippling across her skin.   
  
A mystery solved, Faith thought as she heard the demon talk. That explained why they were all different species of demon; they weren't sisters at all. "You understand what I'm talking about, don't you? You have a sister!"  
  
Faith narrowed her eyes at the demon and shook her head as best she could. She didn't understand what she was talking about.  
  
"They want to make more sisters like you and they want me to kill you. How do you feel about that?" Off Faith's seething look, she went on, "You don't like me very much. I never get to have any friends."   
  
"Sss...sssorry, bbbitcch." Her words were slow, her tongue swollen, pushing past lips that didn't seem connected to her face.   
  
"You've got friends. He loves you. What's that like?"  
  
Faith's lip trembled and she felt a flash of real heat moving through her, but it quickly got swallowed up like a rock in a bully's snowball and battered at her heart. "Fffeeelss...gggood."  
  
"It won't when I'm through with you."   
  
Lian again giggled and bent, pressing her frost-bitten lips to Faith's a moment before righting herself and stalking off into the blue-tinged darkness. Her little fingers picked up various items strewn around the marble floor and prepared them, blowing her breath on them and forming mounds of jagged ice where she stood.   
  
Faith watched until the need to close her eyes became too great. She felt the cold seeping up her spinal cord to her brain and she let it, her mind numbing under the demon's influence. The last thing she saw before she slipped into darkness was Wesley warming her hands in his own, his hot breath breathing life into her, fighting back that cold and winning. He kissed her once, long and hard and the world melted away until there was just him.  
  
If only.  
  
*****************  
  
Stan Evans squinted up at Lorne, his milky eyes flickering from his face to Gunn's and back again. A sigh escaped the short, withered mage's lips and then he gestured them in, his feet padding along the floor.   
  
"The Slayer?" He asked as soon as the two men had sat down before him. He settled back into the high-backed chair, his fingers steepled in front of him.   
  
"Yes. If you could..." Lorne said, his mouth pressed into a grim red line.   
  
"And the Watcher?"   
  
"No, we know where he is. Just the Slayer." Gunn said, leaning forward to see what the old man was going to do.  
  
"Watch the crystal." Stan shook his head several times, his eyes fading into a white pool, his voice echoing slightly as if he were shouting from another room. The crystal floated up, wavered on it's invisible strings of majick and then it went dark. "I...I can't see her..."  
  
"What? You...what do you mean? Is she dead?" Lorne asked, gripping the table with his hands, his eyes widening at the implications of his words.  
  
"No...I feel her...but I cannot see her. She's very cold." The black crystal wavered once more, threatening to crash back to the table.  
  
"Where is she?" Gunn asked the mage, his eyebrows drawn up in concern.  
  
"In a church. St. James downtown. She's afraid." Stan choked out, and then collapsed, the energy spiralling back into him faster than sight could comprehend. A shuddering sigh and he looked back up at the two companions. "Payment."  
  
"You're a very persistent man." Lorne said, smiling as he pulled out a wad of cash much like the last one.   
  
"I do not pay the bills with kindness." Stan answered, stuffing the wad into his robe and beckoning to the door. As they stepped back into the early morning air, bright streaks of dawn tinging the sky pink, he said, "I hope you find her. She is...very special."   
  
"I know someone who would be quite glad to agree with that." Lorne said as he walked away, Gunn on his heels. "And we'd better get to him before he decides to get himself killed."  
  
"I agree." Gunn said, hoping into the cab of his truck and peeling out of there, heading back toward the hotel and a new day.   
  
*******************  
  
Lydia adjusted the strap of her gun, her mouth pressed into a thin, dissaproving line. This wasn't right and she knew it, yet she couldn't bring herself to speak. Always one with the answers first and the facts written down before they were needed, she was at a loss now. This wasn't a classroom or a translation; this was death and killing and just wrong.  
  
Faith she knew had to die, because she knew the importance of having a Slayer in the world who could pass the birthright onto others should she die. Faith wasn't that Slayer because Travers had said so. But...he'd also told her to kill someone who worked for the Powers. A million answerless questions tumbled through her mind as she sat in the back of the van, Council Operatives grouped around her.   
  
Was it wrong to kill Angel and his Seer? Yes, she knew it was. They were innocents in this game. So, was Faith innocent too? No, she was a murderer. But hadn't she paid her dues in prison for the past two years? Hadn't Andras's notes told her that Faith had been slaying again? Yes, they had.   
  
Those were the facts and she knew they were because she only dealt in facts. Lydia shook her head, confusion muddling her mind. Blind faith had always led her down whatever path Quentin Travers was on; he was her mentor and she aspired to be like him in all ways. Except now, she was thinking on her own and she didn't like those thoughts.  
  
She remembered Wesley from training and she liked him; they were both ambitious, as were all Watcher's starting out. You didn't a position like Wesley had landed if you weren't. Now here she was, going on a mission to murder him in cold blood. Her stomach churned.   
  
Perhaps Andras Connelly was onto something. Just maybe.  
  
She looked over at Patil and Travers, cold eyes staring at her, as if they were looking for a sign of rebellion from her. She shifted on the seat and turned her gaze out the tinted window.   
  
Not yet.  
  
******************* 


	25. Walking the Path

Running For Our Lives  
-------------------------  
  
A/N: Sorry about the long wait between chapters. I've been super busy and whenever I go to write, my mind wanders and I stare at the screen all wide-eyed. Sometimes there's drool. Not pretty. Anyhoo, here's the last three chapters. If you're real nice and ask I might write a sequel. :)  
  
***********  
  
Chapter 25: Walking the Path  
  
  
Wesley started as someone knocked on the door. He sat up, squinting into the sun-yellowed recesses of the room. How long had he been asleep? He looked at the clock on the wall, but he couldn't read it. Damn. It felt like noon though, and by the angle of the sun on the wall, it was nearing that time.  
  
"Wesley?" Fred's voice was muffled by the door. "Are you awake?"  
  
"Did they find her?" He sat up, throwing the blanket off of his legs and padding to the door. He swung it open and looked down at the brown-haired Texan, her mouth turned into a frown. "Tell me they found her."  
  
"They found her!"  
  
"Oh thank God. Where is she?" Wesley asked, a weight lifting off his shoulders and his heart soaring.  
  
"Somewhere downtown."  
  
"Where?" He pressed, his eyes boring holes in her face.   
  
"They didn't say. It's okay, they'll be here in a few minutes. She'll be fine." Fred attempted a smile and he had to give her credit, nothing brought her down. Of course, she didn't have worry and fear squeezing her heart and making all other thoughts and feelings drip down her spine. And, he rationalized, she didn't even know Faith, she probably didn't really care what happened. That thought almost made him angry and down that guilty path he'd been travelling for too long, it seemed.   
  
"They'd better hurry..." He choked back the anger and pushed past her, but she grabbed his arm.  
  
"I found your glasses. The ones you leave at the office." Fred smiled, handing him the glasses. He nodded, putting them on. Having gone so long without them, everything seemed too sharp, too harsh to his eyes. He blinked and mumbled a thank you.  
  
Wesley turned around once more to walk away, but her voice stopped him dead in his tracks.  
  
"You love her." It was a statement, but he could see the question in her eyes when he turned around. His shoulders stiffened and he looked at the woman he'd once convinced himself he loved. He still felt a tug on his heartstrings as he studied her honest face. But she was lacking something behind those brown eyes, a fire that he'd scorched himself in. Her features were too soft, the smile not sharp enough, the lips meant for someone else. He missed the sensual pout his mouth had molded to, melted against. A faint echoing hollow in his stomach reached out, not to Fred, but to another woman who'd hurt him, just by being near him.   
  
Something had changed and he was almost afraid of what that something was.   
  
"I..." He whispered, unsure of what to say.  
  
"You do. You love her." Fred smiled and nodded, her face lighting up. Wesley couldn't but smile. She was so sure, even when he wasn't.   
  
"We should go." Wesley said softly, changing the subject, his mind flooded with thoughts he'd leave for later. He sighed and then turned around once more and strolled down the stairs to the lobby.   
  
Fred watched him go, a smile wreathing her features. He loved her.  
  
*************  
  
Wesley reached the bottom of the stairs just as Gunn and Lorne burst through the door. Cordelia looked up from her perch on the edge of the couch, her fingers stopping in mid-motion as she redbandaged Angel's ribs. He winced as he looked up, a full glass of blood clutched in his hands.   
  
"Let's go." Wesley said as soon as he stepped off the landing. He strolled straight to the weapon's cabinet and opened it, taking out a big broadsword and a repeating crossbow. His brow furrowed as Gunn dissapeared into the office, but he shook his shoulders.  
  
"Whoa, Wes. We need a plan before we get all rescue-y. We can't just bust in there with weapons and..." Cordelia started to say, but he cut her off with a blazing glare.  
  
"She's going to die if we don't hurry. We've already wasted enough time...we...we should have started searching for her as soon as she..." Wesley stopped, a tremoring breath shaking his shoulders. "I can't let her die. She's counting on me."  
  
"I know she is, but you have to calm down, or you're going to get yourself killed." Fred said, coming up behind him and placing a slender hand on his shoulder.  
  
"So? As long as she's safe, I don't care." His voice was hard as steel, his sharp gaze flicking from each of them in turn. With a shrug, he dislodged Fred's hand from his shoulder and strolled to the door. "You coming or not?"  
  
"Yeah. We're coming, bro." Lorne said, his red eyes shadowed as he picked up his own weapon from the cabinet.   
  
"Hold up. I gotta plan." Gunn said, stepping out of the office, something big and metal slung over his back. The others recognized it immediately and nodded.   
  
"Is it full?" Fred asked, peering curiously at it.  
  
"Yeah." Gunn answered, and without another word, he got his axe out and the others did the same, following the Watcher out the door. Cordelia exchanged a glance with Angel, but the vampire remained quiet. She wondered what he was thinking and why he wasn't beating some sense into Wesley.   
  
"Pull the car around to the sewer." Was all he said, his dark brown orbs giving her no clue to his feelings. She nodded and followed behind Fred, her heart in her throat. For Wesley's sake, she hoped they'd get the Slayer back. And that he didn't kill himself trying.   
  
Fred propped the door open for her, waiting for the Seer to come through. Just as Cordelia's feet hit the pavement outside, something descended on her.   
  
Cordelia hit the ground, pain grinding up through her spine as a booted heel was planted firmly between her shoulder blades. She tried to twist out from under whatever was on her, but she couldn't move. "Angel!"  
  
Her voice was lost in the uproar around her. She squinted up through the short curtain of her blonde hair and caught sight of the others. About ten men, glad in black kevlar and armed with weapons of all kinds, were surrounding them. Fred and Lorne were backed up into the corner, three mercenaries eyeing the loaded crossbows in their hands. Gunn and Wesley were fighting off four others, swords flashing in the sunlight. They all fell under the swords and two more moved in to take their places.  
  
"Your vampire isn't going to help you!" A British voice said, a gloved hand buried in her hair, yanking her head back and exposing her throat. She grunted, pain lacing through her muscles as the man on her back applied more pressure to her.   
  
"Get the fuck off of me!" Cordelia said, her eyes welling with tears from the pull of his hand at the roots of her hair. Her scalp felt like it was about to be ripped off, but she forgot that as she felt something cold and metal slide up along her throat.   
  
Suddenly, something rushed at her and the weight was lifted from her shoulders and back, the knife clattering to the ground beneath her. She rolled over, struggling to get to her feet and squinted in the bright sunlight. Angel, smoking and blistering in the warm sunshine, was pummeling the intruder that had landed on her. The figure sagged in his smoking hands, blood fountaining from his nose and his ears.   
  
Cordelia ran to Angel, dragging him off the man and screaming at him to get back inside. He blinked, then dived inside, rolling down the steps and back into the lobby. Cordelia followed behind him, shouting back at the others to follow.   
  
Shots rang as Lorne and Fred dived back toward the door, Gunn right behind them. The shots clipped the door, sending glass flying and the wood to crack. "Wes!"  
  
Wesley started at Gunn's rough voice and ran back through the doorway, the commandos flooding in after him. He stopped, his sides heaving, the stitch in his lip bleeding slightly and his eyes blazing. He knew who they were.   
  
"Hello Mr. Wyndham-Pryce." Quentin Travers said, removing his dark mask and smiling smugly at the six companions.   
  
"Hello Quentin." Wesley answered, fingering his loaded crossbow.   
  
"I wouldn't." Armand Patil said, coming up behind Travers and pointing his semi-automatic at Wesley. "Fire that thing and they'll all die."  
  
"You're going to kill us anyway." Angel said, standing up from where he'd fallen, the skin on his face blackened, still smoking from his contact with the sun. Cordelia placed a hand on his shoulder, her heart pounding in her chest.  
  
"That's true." Travers said, smiling widely. "You and that murdering bitch will die and the world will be safe."  
  
"She's not a threat." Wesley growled, moving a step closer. Anger flowed through him, making his skin crawl, shoving all thought from his mind and all feeling from his heart.  
  
"Oh no? Who gave you that broken nose? She's not a threat? Fuck, she taints everything she touches." Patil spat, his dark eyes blazing.   
  
"You don't know her." Wesley insisted, his gaze flicking from one Watcher's face to the next. Disgust welled up in him and he wondered why the hell he ever joined up with the self-righteous bastards in the first place. One glance at Travers told him all he needed to know. The man was a fanatic, not a Watcher.   
  
"And you do? Just because you fucked her?" Patil spoke up, a smirk on his wide lips. Wesley started to speak, but Fred limped in front of him.  
  
"How dare you? Listen, I don't know much about who you are, but Faith saved my life! She saved all our lives and you're going to kill her because of that? You're....just....stupid!"  
  
"Shut up, girl." Travers barked, lifting his own rifle at Fred. Gunn grabbed her arm and placed her behind him, his eyes burning, daring the Watcher to fire.   
  
Lorne, standing slightly behind Gunn and to his left, extended his senses and touched each Watcher in turn. Travers's mind was a bed of sick, rotten power that tainted everyone around him. His eyes turned to the Indian man, whose smile was as bloodthirsty as anyone could have imagined. Lorne shivered and moved onto the next and the next. He felt each of them and saw that some gathered didn't like this plan. They thought it was cruel and wrong, but fear and loyalty tightened their mouths and the hold on their guns.   
  
Finally, Lorne's senses lighted on a blonde woman tucked in the back, her gun to her side, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two parties as they talked and traded insults. Her breath was rasping in her chest and she looked scared to death. No wonder, Lorne thought as he delved into her aura and read her like an open book. This woman was divided straight down the middle and teetering on the edge of making a very big decision.   
  
Across the room, her gaze met his and Lorne's eyes widened, gesturing toward Travers with a flick of his pupils. The woman's eyes widened too and she paled, hand clutched on her gun so hard her knuckles were bleach white. He saw her fear and pleaded with her eyes, his gaze flicking over to Wesley and back again. The woman gulped, teeth biting down on her lip. She shook her head and Lorne closed his eyes.   
  
He couldn't make her do the right thing. He could only show her the path; walking it was the hardest part.   
  
"You don't want to do this." Wesley said, interrupting Lorne's thoughts and lifting his crossbow at Travers. His eyes burned and he felt sweat forming on his upper lip.   
  
"Oh?" Quentin said, his eyebrows arched. "I think you should listen to the men with the big guns, Pryce. Put down the weapons and we'll make it swift."  
  
"I..." Wesley said, glancing at the others. Their mouths were hard, grim, and waiting on him to make a move. Wes's eyes lighted on Angel, but the vampire was a blank wall; nothing showed past his dark eyes and he knew Angel was giving him the role of leader once more. This was his fight.   
  
Instead of shaking under the mantle of leadership as he had so often done before, he lifted his head high, eyes bright with resistance. "No."  
  
"Fine." Travers said in a low growl and raised his hand. Suddenly, something metal and cold was placed along his temple, a delicate hand wrapping in his hair.   
  
"Put your weapons down!" Lydia's command was pushed out through a closed throat. Fear laced up her spine and came out in a tremble of her lips. But she kept the gun steady against Quentin's head. "Drop it." Quentin did as he was told, his mouth tight and small.  
  
"Lydia! What in bloody hell are you doing?" Patil shouted, his gun shifting from Wesley to Lydia. That was all the distraction the group needed. Angel rushed forward, snapping guns and knocking their owners to the ground. Cordelia followed up behind him and levelled her twin crossbows at the fallen Watchers.  
  
Gunn and Fred did the same, holding the others off. A few shots rang out, but went wide of their targets as Gunn slammed bodies to the ground.   
  
"Stay down! Or I'll kill him!" Lydia said, turning her steely gaze on her fellow Watchers. The only one still standing was Patil. His gun was pointed at Lydia and his eyes burned.  
  
"Lydia...put the gun down. You don't know what you're doing." Travers said in a calm voice. Lydia flinched and pressed the gun harder on his temple.   
  
"No, Quentin, you don't know what you're doing. You're taking this too far! These people are innocent and you're just going to kill them? I used to think you knew all the answers, but now...you're sick." Lydia cried, her shoulders shaking.   
  
Wesley, his boots kicking a stray gun out of the way of a reaching hand, stepped up beside Lydia. "Absolute power corrupts, Quentin, and you've had that for far too long. You sent the Five to kill Faith because you could. You failed."  
  
"We didn't fail, Pryce. Lian is going to kill the bitch and there's nothing you can do about it." Patil spat at Wesley, his sights lined up on him. "You're useless and so is she."  
  
Something broke in Wesley. He shot the crossbow in his hands before he knew he was doing it, all-consuming anger flowing through his body. The arrow imbedded itself in Patil's chest, a rose of crimson blood blossoming around the shaft buried in his lungs. The Watcher cried out and dropped the ground.  
  
"Jesus Christ." Gunn muttered, eyeing the fallen Watcher and then turning his attention back to the others before him. Their eyes widened as they watched their fellow twitch and then lay still.   
  
"Wesley..." Cordelia's voice was soft and it carried across the room to him as he stared at the blood flowing from the wound in Patil's chest. "Wes?" He looked up and blinked, his gaze stony.  
  
"Leave." He forced out from between his teeth. "Go. If any of you ever try to come after Faith again, I'll kill you. She's my Slayer and she doesn't work for the Council. You have a Slayer. Faith belongs to me."   
  
"She belongs to the world and we have a..." Quentin started to say, but Wesley pushed his crossbow to his forehead.   
  
"You have sacred duty to protect the world. I know that. And she'll do her job and die doing it. But not now and not by some goddamned assassins sent because you're too cowardly to do it yourselves."   
  
"She's a murderer."  
  
"So am I." Wesley arched his eyebrow in the direction of Patil's body. "And I'm not afraid of doing it again. I promise you that."  
  
Quentin's gaze wavered from the hard blue of Wesley's eyes. He shuddered, feeling the wooden crossbow and the cold metal pressed to his head. He glanced around at the Watcher's on the floor of the hotel, weaponless and.....looking with fear at the civillians around them. These people that should have been dead by now, were warriors and noble. They were innocent and they knew it.   
  
Travers was alone.  
  
"Fine, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. We'll leave and you can keep your murderer. Go." His gaze flickered to the Watcher's around him. They stood up, heads cast the ground like they were ashamed of themselves. They filed out the door, weapons still trained to their backs.   
  
"Quentin?" A Watcher turned, his dark eyes searching the group before him   
  
"Go ahead Mr. Addams." Quentin said, his gaze not leaving Wesley's, the crossbow and the gun still pressed to his forehead and temple. Addams frowned and then followed his companions out the door. "Lydia?"  
  
"Leave Quentin." Lydia's voice was steady as she lowered the gun.   
  
"I.."  
  
"I'd listen to the nice lady if I were you." Gunn spoke up, his crossbow still aimed at the door.   
  
"You're making a mistake, Wesley."  
  
"You're the one that made the mistake Quentin. Never try to kill my family." Wesley shot back, lowering the crossbow.  
  
"We tend to take it personally." Cordelia said, her mouth twisting up into a grin.   
  
Quentin sighed heavily and looked at each of them, his gaze finally resting on Lydia. A disgusted snort and the older man turned on his heel and walked away. Lydia watched him go, gulping back the lump in her throat.  
  
And suddenly, as if everything was in slow motion, Quentin turned on them, a pistol that he'd kept hidden in his hands. He levelled it at Wesley and moved to fire. Lydia saw the move and took a deep breath, hands lifting faster than thought.  
  
One shot. Wesley's eyes widened as Travers fell the ground beside Patil, blood pooling around him immediately. Lydia trembled and blinked, as if she couldn't believe what she had just done. The gun clattered to the ground, her numb fingers dropping it with a twist of her guts.  
  
"Oh dear lord..." She wavered on her feet and nearly dropped to her knees, but Lorne supported her. He'd been moving up alongside her and now he grabbed her in his soft hands and steered her to the couch in the middle of the floor. "Is he...?"  
  
"He's dead." Angel said as he exchanged another wordless glance with Wesley. The Watcher picked up his crossbow again and looked toward his old friend.   
  
"I...I've never killed anyone before." Lydia squeaked, her face ashen. Lorne patted her shoulder and she looked up at him. If she was at all disturbed by his appearance, she didn't say anything. Instead, she looked ready to throw up any second.   
  
"You saved our lives." Wesley said, looking at his old schoolmate. "Thank you."  
  
"I had to..do the right thing."  
  
"Of course." Lorne said, his eyes soft. "Walking the path is the hardest thing to do."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nevermind, honey. You should go." Lorne turned to the others and motioned to the door. "I'll stay with her. I think we need to talk."   
  
Wesley frowned and thanked Lorne with his eyes, then lead the way out of the hotel. He prayed to whatever deity was listening that the interruption hadn't cost them too much time. He had a feeling they were running out of it, and fast.   
  
**************  
  
Faith was closer to the blue fire when she woke than she had been when she'd succumbed to the cold. She shifted, muscles screaming, numbed by the frozen surfaces around her. Lian hovered over her, sprinkling something warm on her lips.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Faith pushed out, the warmth unfreezing her tongue and sparking the anger in her chest again.   
  
A sharp piece of steel flashed and Faith felt it burn coldy against her skin as the demon cut her over and over again. "That's what!"  
  
Her voice was gleeful and hard at the same time, blood splashed across her pale blue skin. Faith saw with widened, pain-filled eyes that the child-demon had disrobed and her skin was covered in jagged scales that reminded her of icicles. They sparkled and shimmered from the hard angles of her body, some dipped in her blood as the demon stood.   
  
"Why did you do that?" Faith knew she was going to die and she also felt amusement. This was what was going to kill her? Some demon with icicles hanging off her elbows? She fought the urge to laugh and looked on the demon with a smile.   
  
"Because, I need your blood for the spell. And it was fun." Lian said, shrugging her shoulders and turning back to the blue flames. The demon stuck her blood-dipped hand in the fire and it hissed, licked the blood away and grew higher. Lian turned back on Faith and frowned. "Why are you smiling?"  
  
"Cuz it's funny."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Oh God, where do I start? First off, I'm about to die at the hands of an ice demon that looks like a Power Rangers reject. I'm in love with my Watcher, whom I tortured once upon a time, thank you very much. I tried to be good and yet I still have people out to kill me and I really have to pee right now. Plus, you have an weird icicle thingy hanging off your ass."   
  
Lian just stared at her, her eyes wide.   
  
"So, are you like, gonna kill me anytime soon? Cuz I'm wicked cold just laying here and you're boring the shit out of me."   
  
"Shut up." Lian scowled at her and turned back to the fire, throwing powders into it and watching it roar higher.  
  
"Uh, if I'm going to die, wanna tell me what you're planning to do? It's not like I can get up!" Faith said, motioning to the thick bands of ice around her wrists and ankles. Tried as she might, she just couldn't break the ice. So she lay back and waited.   
  
"I'm going to peel your skin and eat it. And then I'm going to throw your bones on the fire and make a potion out of it." Lian said over her little shoulder, her voice matter-of-fact.  
  
"What does the potion do?"   
  
"You ask a lot of questions."   
  
"Well it is my skin you'll be munching on and my bones you'll be barbequeing, so yeah." Faith shot back, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach from the cuts the demon had made.  
  
"Fine. The potion will make me invisible." Lian answered, her voice distracted. Faith sat silent for a moment and then she burst out with a short laugh. "Why are you laughing?"  
  
"Invisible? That's it? No...'I plan to take over the world with a potion that'll enslave the masses?' Just invisible?" She said, her eyes wide as she smirked.  
  
"It's a great power!" Lian protested, stamping her little foot petulantly.  
  
"It's a lame power! What are you going to do, sneak into a lockeroom or something? My blood and bones for that? Jesus Christ, now I really do feel worthless!" Faith rolled her eyes, seeing that her ridicule was getting to the demon. Maybe she'd just kill her and that would be it.   
  
"You are worthless." Lian snapped, that childlike mask slipping and the evilness shining through. "Worthless to everyone."  
  
"But not you and your sisters. You all wanted me pretty damned bad. What would they have done to me, eh? Made themselves into bunny rabbits?" Faith countered, nudging at the demon's temper.  
  
"Mateo would have cut off your head and mounted it. She just loved the kill. Uriah would have made a pelt from your skin. Saris, she would have killed you and then used your body to kill others in turn. Orin would have just eaten you, thinking that she'd be a better fighter for it."   
  
"Wow. Scary. I can see why I killed your sisters; they were dumb as fuck. And you're not much better!"   
  
That did it. Lian turned on Faith and lifted the cold knife once more. The blade flashed in the blue flames and Faith squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow that would kill her.   
  
She had time to spare for a thought of Wesley before the knife was driven downward.   
  
******************** 


	26. Fire and Ice

Running For Our Lives  
-------------------------  
  
Chapter 26: Fire and Ice  
  
Tires screeched and bodies piled out of the truck, weapons flashing brightly in the afternoon sunshine. It was too damned cheerful outside for the situation they were all facing, but the sun shone anyway, heedless of the pain of the man at the head of the pack.   
  
Angel sprinted to the archway of the sprawling cathedral, a blanket wrapped over his head and shoulders. He threw it off when he reached the heavy shadows beneath the archway, his skin slightly smoking from his brief contact with the sun. Everyone followed behind him, mouths set grimly in their faces.  
  
"We ready for this?" Cordelia asked, looking from face to face. Fred nodded, lifting her crossbow, her face pale.   
  
"Let's do this." Wesley growled, his heart lodged in his throat. A glance at Angel and the vampire kicked at the door.   
  
The massive wood groaned and stayed shut. Another kick. Nothing. He tried the knob. It was locked and the brass was cold to the touch, too cold and he pulled his hand away quickly.  
  
"She's frozen it shut from the inside." Angel said, glancing back at Wesley. The Englishman cursed low under his breath and gulped a breathful of air.  
  
"What are we gonna do?" Fred asked, her eyes wide.   
  
Suddenly, Angel took off into the sunshine, his huge duster billowing out behind him like a cape.   
  
"Angel!" Cordelia screamed, launching herself after him, her eyes wide as she saw the trail of smoke he was leaving behind him. Hitting the edge of the building, Angel crawled up the masonry, reaching the edge of a huge stained glass window. Cordelia skittered to a halt and shielded her face as the vampire leapt through the glass.  
  
Glass landed everywhere, slicing Angel in several places as he fell to the frozen ground inside the cathedral. He landed, rolled and slipped against the thick covering of ice. A shaft of sunlight fell across his face and he growled, rolling away from the pain.   
  
Safely ensconced in the gloomy cathedral, he looked around, his vamp face slipping up over his features and his eyes glowing yellow in the light. His eyes adjusted and found a roaring blue fire and he saw something pale and bloody laying near it.   
  
He surged forward, just as something cold was thrust in the small of his back. He turned, his eyes narrowed at the little demon before him.   
  
She smiled and launched herself at him.  
  
**************  
  
Gunn lifted Fred in after Cordelia and then turned to Wesley. The Brit was staring up at the broken window, his face pale and the twin black eyes from his broken nose shining darkly.   
  
"You ready, dawg?" Gunn asked, snapping Wesley out of his tense reverie. Wesley looked back down at Gunn and nodded.   
  
Gunn cupped his hand and Wesley stepped in it, then grabbed ahold of the masonry and used Gunn's hand to propel himself upward. He clung to the side of the building as best he could, careful of the jagged panes of glass still sticking up out of the windowframe like broken teeth. He extended his hand out to Gunn and lifted him up with him.   
  
As soon as Gunn was clinging just below the window, Wesley jumped in after the two women and landed in a sprawl on the icey floor. Gunn landed beside him a second later.  
  
He looked up to see Angel grabbling with the little demon, a thin coat of ice covering parts of his body where the thing had managed to hit him. It wasn't slowing him down though, as Wesley could see when he kicked the thing in the stomach, sending it sliding back against the wall.   
  
Faith, where was Faith? His eyes looked, searched, groped for some form of Slayer and he found her. A crackling blue fire was blazing in the center of the huge room, sending azure sparks up into the lofty heights of the ceiling. Beside it, he saw Faith, her head resting limply against the floor.   
  
"Faith!" He didn't realized he'd screamed the word so loudly that Cordelia and Fred looked up from their task in the corner. They watched, worry in their eyes as he sprinted across the wide hall until he reached her, sliding on his knees as he knelt before her. "Faith! Wake up!"  
  
Her lips were blue, her skin so cold his mind went into a tailspin for a second until he saw her breath puff up out of her chest and hang in the air between them for a moment before dissapating. "Wake up, I'm here to rescue you!"   
  
Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, a smile touching those blue, blue lips. "Wes?" Then her eyes rolled back up into her head and he bent over her, hugging the shaking frame against his own. His hands touched her belly and came away bloody.   
  
"What the....oh my God..." He followed the trial of his hands and saw a big, jagged wound in her abdomen. Bile rose in his throat and he saw a large, serrated knife laying beside her in a congealing pool of blood. Her blood. "Gunn!"   
  
He was there in an instant, as if he was conjured, at his elbow. Immediately the black man began hacking at the ice with his axe, careful of the fists encased in them.   
  
"It's okay, love. You're going to be okay." His words sounded false, even to him.   
  
Across the room, Cordelia lifted the hose of the weapon Fred was holding up. She levelled it at the fighting vampire and demon, looking for a shot and waiting until Angel cleared the path.   
  
"Uh...Angel? Wanna move?" She ground out, one eye squinting and the other focusing on the little demon. Angel's head snapped up for a second, his attention moved onto the woman with the weapon.   
  
That was all Lian needed and she threw a roundhouse at him. Angel flew backward, slamming into a discarded wooden cross that was propped up in the corner. The dusty, splintered thing toppled over before Angel could move out of the way.   
  
Cordelia eyes widened as she saw the cross pin Angel to the floor, his skin sizzling, smoking where it touched his skin. Without thinking, she threw the nozzle down and slid across the floor to where he was struggling. Fred watched her go, her eyes wide.  
  
The smell of burning flesh was cloying, but Cordelia ignored it and tugged at the cross, tugged and pulled, but it stayed where it was. "Can you get up, Angel?"   
  
"I...no..." Angel grunted, his eyes full of his Seer's face. His gaze shifted from Cordelia to Wesley and Gunn. Cordelia followed his line of sight and nodded.  
  
"Gunn!" The black man turned, his eyes wide as he saw Angel. He sprinted to them, leaving Wesley to Faith's fallen, bleeding form.   
  
Lian, who had been watching, her side bleeding where Angel's sword had cut her deeply, saw the abandonment and descended on the Slayer and her Watcher.   
  
Wesley stood, his chin jutted out defianantly at her. "Try it."   
  
"Don't mind if I do!" The little demon grabbed Wesley by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Wesley kicked his feet, his hands reaching for her eyes as his air supply was cut off.   
  
"Shit!" Cordelia said, seeing the demon grab Wesley. Gunn didn't even look back as he grabbed the huge wooden cross and lifted. A second later, Cordelia added her strength and the cross slowly shifted off of Angel's scorched, sizzling form.   
  
Angel rolled, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. He struggled to his feet, Cordelia reaching for his arm and supporting him with her body.   
  
"Oh fuck...Wesley!" Gunn said, letting the cross crash back down in a heap. He rushed forward, just in time to see the demon throw Wesley against the wall.   
  
A sickening crack was heard and the Watcher slid limply down the wall, his head hanging. He slumped on the floor, unmoving.   
  
"You fucking bitch!" Gunn roared, reaching for the axe he'd abandoned near Faith's feet. Damn.  
  
"You're mean! I don't like you!" Lian said, smiling widely as she broke the remaining ice around Faith's feet. She lifted the bleeding Slayer by the roots of her hair, waving her at the others like a sick prize.   
  
"Yeah, and I'm losing sleep at night cuz of that." Gunn muttered as Angel put a burned, quelling hand on his shoulder. The vampire limped forward and glared at the demon.  
  
"Put her down."   
  
"I'll kill her right here. Just like I did to her Watcher."   
  
Angel's eyes bore into the little demon's and he tried to ignore Fred, just behind her. The little physicist was creeping up behind the blue demon, her eyes wide, the nozzle of the weapon clutched tightly in her shaking hands.   
  
Gunn and Cordelia watched her too, eyes narrowed, waiting for the signal and the right moment.   
It came as Angel launched himself across the room, once more sliding in the ice and sweeping the Sister off her feet. Bodies tangled, slammed into the floor and rolled across the ice.   
  
Faith rolled out of Lian's arms and was quickly scooped up by Gunn, his arms curling protectively around the fallen Slayer. Cordelia followed up behind him, grabbing her legs as they hauled her backward.  
  
Over her shoulder, Cordelia called out, "Fred! Now!"  
  
Fred didn't hesitate. She twisted the nozzle on the flame thrower and a huge, bright red torrent of fire came blasting out of the end. Angel rolled away from Lian's fallen body just in time.   
  
Flames hungrily lapped over the ice demon's body, sucking at the skin and cracking the icy armor of her body. Lian screamed, standing and lashing out with her power. Ice flew, hitting Angel once more and sending him to his knees. The blast wasn't very powerful though and he climbed right back up. The demon screamed and turned on Fred, but the little Texan held her ground, even as the demon rushed her.   
  
Angel saw what she was going to do and reached in, grabbed the demon, heedless of the fire licking at his already burned, raw flesh. He threw her towards that huge, roaring blue fire still burning in the center of the room.  
  
Lian screamed and writhed in the combined flames. The blue mixed with the red. Purple flames rose, higher and higher until something in the flames gave. A scream, so loud it was deafening, thundered off the walls of the cathedral and forced them to their knees.   
  
The flames exploded for one, long moment and then....  
  
They died, guttering out and leaving a blackened, broken body in the center of the fire pit. Silence enveloped them, thick and long and full of tension. A horribly pungent smell drifted lazily across the cathedral, making them cough and their eyes to tear.   
  
Finally, Fred broke it by throwing down the flame thrower and letting out the tense breath she'd been holding.   
  
"Wesley!" Cordelia exclaimed, snapping out of it and sprinting over to his fallen form. She lifted his head in her lap, her fingers coming away bloody. She looked his pale face over and then turned her gaze up to Angel's.   
  
"Is he okay?" Fred asked, then her blood ran cold at that panicked, anguish riddled-voice that sounded from Cordelia's throat.  
  
"Call 911. NOW!"  
  
**************************** 


	27. Happy Endings

Running For Our Lives  
---------------------------  
  
Chapter 27: Happy Endings  
  
Two Days Later  
  
Cordelia curled up on Angel's bed, her eyelids drooping, wet hair plastered to her face in dark slashes. Angel shifted, his skin still aching and his ribs still moaning.   
  
"I'm tired." She commented, her fingers curled up around Angel's burned digits. He smiled slightly, his scorched flesh pulling tight at the corners of his mouth.   
  
"You should be. It was a long week."   
  
"These past two days seemed to take forever." She yawned, her mind easily flowing back to the hospital. Images of two pale faces, bloody and cold swam before her eyes. She shuddered, feeling the fear, the tense waiting that had followed.   
  
"Yeah, but they're okay now. Happy ending, remember?" Angel whispered in her ear, shifting closer in the bed. She welcomed his touch and didn't stop to wonder why. It had been a damned long week and she was exhausted enough not let her mind play it's little games. Let instinct take over for once.   
  
"No they're not." She insisted, yawning widely once more.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, there is no happy ending for them because they can't have one."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"There's so much baggage there. I mean, she tortured him. He stole your child. There is no happy ending." She insisted, nodding her head wisely.  
  
"If you look at it that way. You know girl, for someone who claims to 'make lemonade', you sure can dwell on the bad things in life." Angel commented dryly, his fingers rubbing against hers.   
  
"I'm just a pessimist. Anything bad that can happen, will. And I don't believe in happy endings."   
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because, in reality, the guy never gets the girl. Never." She insisted, but Angel stayed quiet for moment.   
  
"I don't believe that. I believe in happy endings because I have to. I have to believe I will get my son back. I believe that one day I can look at Wes and not want to kill him. I have to believe that they're going to work things out. And I have to believe..." His voice trailed off as he tilted her chin to look into her eyes. "I have to believe that the guy will get the girl."   
  
Cordelia smiled slowly and sank into his embrace. "I like the way you think."   
  
************  
  
The room was quiet, but for the beep and hum of the machines grouped around the sleeping girl on the bed. Wesley padded into the room, closing the door as quietly as he could.   
  
It had been a job sneaking past Gunn and Fred, who were apparantly taking their turn at guarding the two of them. Quite a change from the last time, he had to admit. He guessed Angel and Cordelia were at home, taking a much needed rest after the harrowing week they'd all had.   
  
Thoughts and images flitted through his mind as he stared at her. Thoughts of Connor, of Angel, the fight and that soul-wrenching moment he thought he'd lost her. And of course, the painful concussion he'd recieved from being smacked into a wall and the first thing he saw when he woke up. All of them, hovering over him like he was about to die. It had warmed him, considering how things had been just weeks prior. They were making progress.   
  
Technically he shouldn't have been out of his bed because of that concussion that had sent him into a mini coma he'd only just gotten out of the day before. But he had to see her. Had to look at her and see for himself that she was still breathing. For some reason, he didn't believe the others when they'd told him she was going to be fine. So here he was, feeling like a new father sneaking in to check and see if his child was still breathing.   
  
His breath tightened in his chest as he looked at her, her face impossibly pale against the pillows. He couldn't believe that this china doll before him was the woman who had hurt him and so many others. He found it hard to believe she could ever have done the things she'd done. But she had and he had the scars to prove it.   
  
He limped to her side and sat down wearily in the chair next to the bed. Her hand was limp as he took it in his own. Her slender fingers seemed to mold to his and he wondered how he'd ever been without her. His soul seemed fragmented from the loss of her burning brown eyes on his.   
  
Silence enveloped him. The damned machines beeped. He ignored them and tried to get his throbbing mind to work.   
  
He needed to think. Needed to think about a happy ending, because that's what was supposed to happen now. A happy ending filled with laughter and promises and kissing.   
  
He nearly laughed when he thought about it. There couldn't be a happy ending yet. Not until he got Connor back for Angel. Then he'd really be back in the family. Right now they were tolerating him, despite their wish not to see him dead. His position within the family was still shaky and he wanted it to be stable.   
  
And then there was her.   
  
He loved her and he knew it, felt it with everything inside of him. The emotion shook him like a bone between a dog's teeth until he was a shattered, ruined mess. It frightened him, but he smiled. Yeah, he loved her.   
  
But was that enough? Enough to keep her safe from herself? She was still dangerous and he knew it, despite that deep urge within her to change and be good. She was still capable of causing damage with just a smile, as he well knew. So the question was, could he save her, when he'd failed to in the past? Was it worth it?  
  
Her eyes fluttered open suddenly and he was lost in chocolate brown pools. He saw his reflection and he reckoned he looked like shit to her.   
  
"Geez Wes. You look like shit." Faith croaked out with a twist of her lips. He smiled, nodding his head and lifting her hand to his lips. He kissed her hand gently and lowered it, along with his eyes.   
  
"I was worried."  
  
"Me too." She snorted, her eyes screwed up with pain as she shifted. "Bitch nearly gutted me. I hate that."  
  
Wesley chuckled and kept his eyes downcast, wondering what he should say to her. Tell her he couldn't be there for her, tell her he wasn't the kind of man she thought he was...tell her anything.   
  
Instead, he burst out, "I love you."   
  
He looked up at her, his emotion raw on his face and his eyes filled with pain. She smiled slowly.   
  
"I love you too." A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and she wiped it away with her free hand. "Shit, I'm leaking."  
  
He chuckled again and kissed her hand once more. "But..."  
  
"No buts...whatever you do, do not but me." She said, clenching her fingers in his hand and drawing his gaze up to hers. Her eyes were deep and dark, filled with the same pain he was feeling.   
  
"But..." He plowed on, ignoring her with a pang of guilt. "We're...this can't..."   
  
"Why not? It was working just fine a few days ago. We're a team, remember? Watcher and Slayer?"   
  
"That's exactly the reason why. If we're going to..."   
  
"Oh please! Don't give me that shit Wesley. Whatever you do, don't feed me some pitiful tripe to cover your fear." Faith interrupted, her eyes flashing.  
  
"I'm not..."  
  
"You are! So, I'm not perfect. I'm a murderer and a borderline psychotic. But I'm feeling better." She smiled widely, teasing a grin out of him. "And you, buster, are a kidnapper and a bad friend."   
  
"This is true." He nodded, the grin keeping on his face.   
  
"Damn straight." She frowned slightly and then spoke in a softer tone. "You and me, we're damaged goods. Hence the we're meant to be vibe. Oh Christ, now I sound like that green guy that was here earlier."   
  
"Lorne was here?" Wesley asked, his brow furrowed.   
  
"Yeah. He came to tell me about the Council." Faith nodded, licking her dry lips.   
  
"What about the Council?" Wesley asked, suddenly remembering the standoff and leaving Lydia with Lorne. What the hell had happened?  
  
"They're not going to try and kill me anymore. Yay!" A small smile, but her eyes went serious again. "Some broad named Lydia is in charge of the Council now and she's keeping them away from me."   
  
"She is? Where have I been?" He shook his head wearily, ignoring the pain in his skull.  
  
"In Coma-Land. Pretty place, ain't it?" Faith chuckled and continued, "Anyway, I'm safe as long as I stay out of trouble and keep slaying."   
  
"Have they reinstated you?" Wesley asked, confused at the rapid turn of events.  
  
"Nope. Lydia wouldn't hear of it, apparantely. She still thinks I'm a murderer, but she's willing to keep the rest of the Council off my back if I just lay sorta low. At least she doesn't want me dead like that dick Travers." She growled the last word and he understood why. He wasn't much fond of the late Quentin Travers either.   
  
"So you're safe." He stated the obvious, realizing he wasn't at his intellectual best.  
  
"No I'm not. I'm the Slayer, I'm never safe. Just enjoying a nice, quiet moment for now." She responded, sighing and looking up a the ceiling. "I don't know if this'll interest you or not, but I'm not going back to prison."  
  
"You..you're not?" He stammered, that gleam of hope in his chest sparking again, despite his resolve to let it die. In all the concussion, he'd forgotten about her parole and the subsequent violation of it.   
  
"Nope. Council Lady fixed that too. I guess Asshole Rob likes bribe money and he's willing to look the other way just this once. So I'm alright with the law and free to go." She smiled, but he caught that haunted look in her eyes. He knew she'd been worried about landing back in prison, that maybe more than the Council.   
  
A shuddering breath was forced from between her lips and she wiped another tear away from her eyes. He watched her fight back the tears that came anyway, just holding her hand and letting her know he was there. He looked at her face and felt his heart squeeze.   
  
"You're right. No 'buts'." Wesley said suddenly, smiling widely at her. She turned her face to his and looked deep into his blue eyes.   
  
"No buts?"  
  
"None. I love you. We'll find a happy ending somewhere. Maybe not today, but one of these days, we'll get it. You and me."   
  
"You and me...." She echoed, reaching for him. His lips met hers a second later and he kissed her as gently as he knew how, feeling his soul touch hers.   
  
More than skin, he decided. He pulled back and smiled at his Slayer. She smiled back and touched his face with her fingers, brushing along his cheek to his jaw and over the puckered scar on his throat.   
  
"I gotta say, I'm willing to make due until we get that happy ending." She remarked, reaching for him again. Her lips brushed his and he felt a deep longing within him.   
  
"Mmm...me too, love. Me too."  
  
THE END.  
  
*************************  
  
A/N: Aww Geez. Sorry about the really sappy stuff there, but durn it, I wanted a non-happy happy ending. Okay, that made no sense, but you know what I mean...right? Right? *crickets chirp* Uh...anyhoo...raise your hand if you want a sequel! :) 


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